


The New Guy

by gubernaculum



Series: The Namesakes [7]
Category: Highlander: The Series, Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:10:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 57,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gubernaculum/pseuds/gubernaculum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sorry I'm rubbish at summaries. Torchwood participates in some inter-organisation cooperation and training.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. I'm only borrowing everything purely for non-profit and completely recreational purposes. The characters of Miranda Ryan, Joseph Fischer, Henry Fitzroy, Ethan Donovan and Cameron MacDonald are my own. I have cast them as Zhang Ziyi, Jesse Spencer, Alex Pettyfer, Ben Affleck (a much older Good Will Hunting version), and James McAvoy respectively. This fic is unbeta'd and therefore probably full of grammatical and typographical errors. Writing is purely a hobby for me. I am an American and have attempted to do my own Britpicking so I apologize for any errors there as well.

Ethan Donovan stepped off of the plane in Cardiff, nervous and unsure. After collecting his bags, he walked into the greeting area. Donovan immediately recognised Ianto Jones dressed, as always, in a sharp suit. 

"Director Donovan, I'm Ianto Jones. It's good to see you again. Welcome to Cardiff," he said.

"Mr. Jones, I remember you from the annual UNIT conferences," Donovan said, shaking the Welshman's hand. "And, please, we're going to be working together for a while. It's Ethan." 

"Ianto," he said with a smile, gesturing at the door. When he let go of Donovan's hand, he took one of the cases from him. "This way, please. Captain Harkness and Doctor Ryan send their regrets that one of them wasn't able to meet you. They've been… detained." 

Donovan nodded and followed Ianto out into the car park. He got into the small blue Audi after he helped heave his cases into the boot. 

"This is my first time in Wales," Donovan said, trying to make small talk.

"My country is a beautiful place. I hope you get to see some of it while you're here. We'd all enjoy showing it to you," Ianto said, with pride. He drove towards the Plass. He could have taken Donovan into the Hub through its garage or the Tourist Office but there was no better way to introduce someone to Torchwood than the invisible lift. Jack hadn't said to use it but Jack did like to show off. Ianto parked his car and helped Donovan wheel the cases towards the water tower. 

"Right. Here we are," Ianto said, as he heaved the case up onto the paving stone. He smiled fondly at Donovan, looking up to read the Welsh on the Millennium Centre. "Ethan, if you please?" 

Donovan looked around, confused. "Sorry?" 

"This paving stone. Step up please," Ianto said, thoroughly enjoying himself. He stepped up onto the stone, keeping his arm on Donovan's coat sleeve so as to muddle the perception filter. "If you wouldn't mind keeping your arms tucked in and, don't move." 

Donovan stepped up onto the stone and turned around to stand next to Ianto. "What do you mean? Don't-"

Ethan Donovan let out a decidedly feminine shriek as the lift began to descend. He grabbed hold of Ianto's arm and turned his around every which way. He felt like a kid on a terrific adventure without enough eyes to see everything. He couldn't swivel his head fast enough to keep track of it all but he obeyed Ianto's order to remain still otherwise, especially after he'd seen how long a way down it was. Once the paving stone reached the bottom, Donovan stepped off and immediately began turning in place staring upwards. He was still trying to process everything when a small Asian woman walked over to him. She was wearing a pair of scrubs and her long hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. 

"Director Donovaon? I'm Miranda Ryan. It's good to finally put a face to the name," she said, cheerfully, holding out her hand to him.

He raised his eyebrow. Unlike Ianto, Donovan had not met Miranda before. He'd heard the Irish lilt of Miranda Ryan over the phone but the face was not what he expected. Donovan had been expecting a woman closer to his own age, perhaps in her forties or, at the least, mid to late thirties. This woman looked far too young to be a practicing doctor let alone second in command of an organisation like Torchwood. If he had to venture a guess, Miranda appeared to be barely out of her twenties, a stunning beauty. _Ah… if I were twenty years younger…_

"Don't worry about it, Doctor Ryan. And please, it's Ethan," Donovan said. He shook Miranda's hand. 

"Miranda. My apologies that I nor Captain Harkness was able to meet you at the airport ourselves," she said with a warm smile. 

He noted blood crusted into her hair and a smear on her neck. "Are you all right?" he asked with concern. 

She raised her hand to her neck. "Nothing serious. I'm fine. Thank you for your concern. Ifan? I'm going to get cleaned up. Would you mind showing our guest to one of the staterooms please? Perhaps the five pence tour? Once you're settled in, Ethan, we'll begin moving you through the basics." 

"Can't wait," Donovan said with a touch of feigned enthusiasm. 

This trip was bittersweet for him. Everything had worked out from a professional standpoint. Personally, it had been another matter. One month after Joseph Fischer had walked through the doors of the MiB Field Office Ten in Seattle, Donovan had promoted the head of Field Office Two in New York to deputy director and left him in charge. Two months after that, Donovan had boarded his plane to Wales, only two days after finalising his divorce. A screeching sound reached his ears and Donovan lifted his head to see… _a pterodactyl?!_ … flying high above him. _What the fuck have I gotten myself into?_ Donovan wondered.

"This way, Ethan," Ianto said cheerfully. "This is the north stairs. It leads to, not surprisingly, the north sub-basement." 

Donovan followed him. At the t-junction, Ianto stopped and waved to their left. 

"That way is the gyms, the firing range and locker room," Ianto said and then waved to his right. "This way is the staterooms." 

As they passed a door on their right, Ianto said, "These are Mandy's rooms."

"She lives here?" Donovan asked, surprised. 

"Jack and I do as well," Ianto said, brightly. "So, don't worry, you won't be alone with Myfanwy at night." 

"Myfanwy?" 

"The pterodactyl," Ianto said as he opened the door at the end of the hallway. "We're going down one level." 

Donovan continued to follow Ianto marveling at the size of the place. He could have sworn he saw two or three other hallways leading off of the main Hub. He followed Ianto through the door one level down and Ianto waved his hand in front of him. 

"These are what we all affectionately call 'the staterooms'. They're our guest quarters. We do, on extremely rare occasion, host alien diplomats or heads of state. Mostly they're vacant, but we do use them for a quick kip now and again," Ianto said. He led Donovan to the first door on their left. He opened it and turned on the light. "You can have whichever one you want. They're all the same."

"This one's fine," Donovan said with a shrug. 

"The fourth door on either side is the loo… sorry, bathroom. At the end of the hall is the laundry. There's also a cupboard in the laundry room with fresh linens." 

Ianto heaved Donovan's case up onto the bed and said, "Take all the time you need. Come upstairs when you're finished. I'll leave you to it." 

"Thanks, Ianto," Donovan said. 

Ianto politely shut the door behind him, leaving Donovan alone. He looked around the spartan room and sighed. He opened up his cases and started unpacking his clothes, putting things away. Once he was finished, he sat down at the small table on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. He wiggled the fingers on his left hand, the absent wedding ring still felt strange. 

The day after Donovan had told his wife, Heather, about this trip, she'd calmly asked for a divorce. She told him that she'd met someone and was ready to move on. He'd known about this other man for years and had looked the other way. The same way that Heather had looked the other way with his affairs. They hadn't been together as husband and wife in… well Donovan couldn't remember. Perhaps it had been their last attempt to mend their relationship, before their third and unexpected child was born. 

The reasons were obvious and this trip wasn't the proverbial straw on a camel's back. The two things had just happened to coincide. He'd always been more career focused. Heather had never understood that her husband's work kept her and their children safe. Their youngest child was in college and their other children were living out on their own. The nest was empty. She'd been staying for their children. The divorce was only something to formalise what they'd both known for a long time, that their marriage was over. He hadn't been surprised at all. Well that wasn't entirely true. What had surprised him was that Heather hadn't left him sooner. He hadn't argued. He hadn't suggested counseling. He'd just nodded at her. He'd even helped her to pack her things so she could move in with what's his name and wished her well. Their assets were divided without question. Their house was to be sold. The whole thing had been so very civil.

Donovan let out a low sigh. His job was all he had left now. Bitterly, he realised that it was all he had ever had. He'd worked and traveled so much that his wife and children had become strangers to him. Sadly, Donovan realised it had been a year since he'd spoken with his older children. He hadn't spoken with his youngest since he and his ex-wife had dropped her off at Georgetown over a month ago. He ran his hands through his hair again and then decided to head back upstairs. He looked around the room again and vowed to give his time here every ounce of what he had. Ianto was waiting by the staircase. 

"All settled in? Right. This way," he said, brightly. Ianto pointed as they walked through the main Hub. "The catwalk to Myfanwy's nest is that way. The hothouse is that way - alien plants and the like. Autopsy bay and the stairs down to the morgue are there. The east stairs down to the cells and the archives. Kitchen - don't ever touch the coffee machine. Jack's office - always knock. And the boardroom is off this way. The hallway to the interrogation rooms is that way. Garage is that way - feel free to use my car while you're here as long as you remember what side of the bloody road you're to be driving on." 

Donovan was already starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by the time he stepped into the boardroom. The rest of the Torchwood team was already there, waiting for him. 

"I'm Gwen. Good to meet you," the gap toothed woman said. Donovan returned her broad smile, shaking her hand. 

"Ethan. Good to meet you too," Donovan said. 

"Captain Jack Harkness," Jack said as he stepped forward with his own hand extended. 

"Ethan," Donovan said. "I've heard a lot about you, Captain Harkness. I want to thank you for this opportunity and-"

"Stowe it," Jack said, tersely. "And it's Jack. You've already met Fish. Have a seat." 

Jack's abruptness caught him off guard but Donovan took the only seat available to him on Miranda's right. Jack leaned forward and nodded at Ianto who placed a small stack of papers in front of Donovan along with a pen. 

"Before we get down to business, Ethan, we just need your John Hancock on that," he said.

"What is it?" Donovan asked, sliding the papers closer. He took out his reading glasses. 

"It's a legal document from your government," Miranda said, swiveling in her chair. "It states that should any of Torchwood's technologies or secrets end up in the hands of MiB or any other agency as a result of your involvement here, you will be tried by your government for treason, the penalty for which is-" 

"Death," Donovan said. He started flipping through the document. "This is hardly necessary." 

"It is. Jack and I work very hard to keep the secrets of Torchwood and we will continue to do so."

"Your confidence is overwhelming," Donovan said sarcastically. 

"It has nothing to do with trusting you," Jack interjected.

"We're just covering our arses," Miranda added. 

"And if I don't sign?" Donovan asked. 

"Then Ianto will drive you back to the airport," Jack informed him, "with our apologies that you came all this way for nothing." 

Donovan picked up the pen and signed his name. "Satisfied?"

"Yes," Miranda said. She turned the papers over to Ianto. "You see, we are not necessarily afraid of you nicking something from the archives. What do you know about Captain Harkness?"

"The same thing everyone else does," Donovan said, side stepping the question. 

Jack cleared his throat and said, "You can speak freely here." 

Donovan let his gaze wander to each of the Torchwood team. They were all staring him down and he couldn't put his finger on why but Miranda's gaze made him the most nervous and the one he could tolerate the least. Her eyes pierced him like laser beams. He shifted a little nervously but he didn't come here to walk on egg shells. "The rumor is that you're immortal." 

Miranda bent down and removed the dagger from her boot. The movement caused Donovan to switch his gaze. He tried not to appear startled by the weapon. 

"The rumors you've heard are correct, Ethan," Miranda said, simply. "We neither confirm nor deny them to those outside of Torchwood-"

"Not that anyone would fucking dare ask…" Donovan muttered under his breath as Miranda continued to speak. 

"-but Jack's unique nature is accepted as an oddity, a fluke." 

Donovan had to keep himself from leaping out of his chair to stop her when she dragged the point of the dagger across her forearm. The gash was deep and long. With a handkerchief, she swiped the blood away and Donovan watched on in astonishment as the cut sealed itself as if it had never been.

"One immortal being is easily dismissed. Two could be seen as… a repeatable phenomenon," she said. 

"Jesus… What happened to you?" Donovan asked without thinking. 

"Neither here nor there," she said. After replacing the dagger in her boot, she steepled her fingers in front of her face. "Jack and I debated for a long time whether or not to tell you given the fact that you're only here for a short while."

"But we didn't want you finding out the hard way," Jack said. 

Fish leaned forward and said, "Saying that Jack and Evie are immortal isn't entirely accurate. They're more… eternally resurrecting." 

"Eternally… resurrecting…" Donovan said the words and then trailed off, confused. As if a fucking pterodactyl wasn't enough?

"If wounded severely enough, we can die," Miranda said. "The severity of the wounds depends on how long it takes for us to revive." 

"Is there something that will kill you permanently?" Donovan asked, astonished. 

"Neither here nor there," she said, dismissively. Donovan felt his foot in his mouth, realising he'd suddenly asked something very private. "This is the greatest of Torchwood's secrets. It belongs not just to Torchwood but to Jack and I personally."

Donovan nodded, understanding the seriousness and gravity of his situation. "You can trust me, Miranda." 

"I trust no one," Miranda said. She added a hollow chill to her voice that raised gooseflesh across Donovan's arms. "I warn you that should you reveal this secret to anyone in any way… when I am finished with you there will be nothing left for your government to try or execute." 

Donovan swallowed. He had no doubt that Miranda would make good on her threat. 

"Will…" Jack warned. 

Miranda only glared at Jack in response. "We want no confusion in the chain of command here, Ethan. You may be head of Men in Black but you are at the bottom of our totem pole."

"I understand," Donovan said. 

"Good. Now that you know the truth, we come to rule number one. There are no heroics with regards to Jack or myself. Ever. You are to never step between us and danger. If either of us is injured, no matter how severe, you are to abandon us and continue. Are we clear?" 

"Crystal," Donovan said. 

"Jack and I use our immortality to strategic advantage when ever and where ever we can," Miranda added. 

"Rule number two," Jack said. "Will and I take the risks. We always take point, no exceptions. We go out on every field call, no exceptions. Understood?" 

"Yes, sir," Donovan said. There was an uncomfortable rustling around the table. 

Miranda leaned towards Donovan and said, "No one calls Jack that but Ianto. Ever. Don't do it again." 

Donovan cast Ianto a look of apology. 

"Ianto? Let's go over the rest of our basic protocols," Jack said. 

Ianto cleared his throat and stood up, launching into his presentation. It took him nearly an hour to go over Torchwood's basic protocols and procedures. When he was done, Donovan felt more than overwhelmed, he felt completely in over his head. 

"We don't expect you to know everything tomorrow. There's a lot to learn and we'll all help you out. Will?"

"I'll see you in the autopsy bay for a full physical, Ethan," Miranda said. She gave Donovan a friendly smile and a nod then got up from her chair. She took a deep breath as she gathered her supplies. Miranda could hear the click of dress shoes on the autopsy bay stairs but they lacked Ianto's distinctive cadence. 

"Everything off and put this on please," Miranda said, tossing him a gown. She turned politely turning away, pretending to review his medical records. 

Nervously, Donovan began shedding his suit. He laid it carefully over Miranda's desk chair. He put on the gown and tied it shut, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

"You want me up on this table?" Donovan asked. 

"Please," she said. Miranda raised her basic scanner, a small metallic looking cylinder. She ran it over Donovan's chest. "I hope you brought other clothes with you, Ethan. Working for Torchwood in a suit is inadvisable unless your name is Ianto Jones." 

"It was only for the plane," Donovan said as he hopped up onto the autopsy table. 

Miranda gave him a friendly smile and said, "You hoped to impress us on your first day?" 

Donovan blushed a bit.  

"What's that?" he asked, looking down at the small torch-like device. 

"It takes basic vital signs… temperature, heart rate, respiration, diastolic and systolic blood pressure, oxygen saturation…" Miranda said as she wrote down the results on her paper. "Your blood pressure is higher than I would like it." 

"I know. I'm on medication," Donovan said with a grimace. 

Miranda opened Donovan's medical records sent to her from MiB. "Metprolol… You're on a fairly low dosage. Do you get headaches?" 

"Sometimes, nothing I'd take anything for," Donovan said. 

"Lay back, please," Miranda said, gesturing at the table. 

Attempting to maintain his dignity, Donovan laid back on the table. He swallowed, more nervous. The autopsy bay doubled as the medical lab. He was laying on the autopsy table. Donovan tried to push that thought out of his mind. 

He lifted his head, curious as Miranda began scanning him with a strange looking device. She tilted her head and said, "You have a fully remodeled fracture or your right tibia. It's very old…"

"Fell off a jungle gym when I was a kid," Donovan said. 

She only nodded in acknowledgement of the explanation and then continued to run the scanner up his body. 

"Your knees are in fairly good shape for a man your age…" Donovan swallowed when she reached his groin. She moved the scanner upwards and said, "Have you been having any abdominal pain, Ethan?" 

"Just indigestion," Donovan insisted. 

"You have choleoliths - gall stones," she said. "Not many, if you mind your diet there should be no need for surgery as of yet. When you return to American you should consult a gastroenterologist." 

"What the hell is that thing?" Donovan asked. 

"This is a Bekaran deep tissue scanner. It's like a portable MRI," Miranda said continuing to move the device along his body. "You have four remodeled fractures to your ribs on the right side. You have a previously dislocated right shoulder… remodeled fracture of the right clavicle…"

"Yeah I was in a pretty bad car wreck back in my twenties," he said. 

She nodded. "Were you a smoker, Ethan?" 

Donovan nodded. "I quit about ten years ago." 

"The damage to your lungs has mostly healed," she said. "There's no evidence of smoking related illness. You may get winded easier than some… Everything else appears normal. You can sit up." 

Miranda gave him a small smile. "Your arm please. I'm afraid we don't have a fancy piece of technology for this. We do it the old fashioned way." 

She tied the tourniquet around Donovan's arm. 

"No gloves?" Donovan noted. 

"My immortality protects me from disease. I'm incapable of contracting or transmitting infection but if it makes you feel better," Miranda said as she put down the syringe. She was about to turn towards the gloves when Donovan stopped her. 

"Nah, it's fine, was just curious if immortals get sick," he said with a laugh. He had a million questions but didn't feel it was his place to ask. 

"No, Jack and I don't get sick. We neither carry nor contract illness," Miranda said, smiling politely. She returned to drawing the blood tubes. Noticing his curiosity, she said, "You may ask what you like, Ethan. I don't promise to provide you with answers. And since I already know what your next question will be, no I will not tell you how old I am. You should know better than to ask a lady her age." 

"Something tells me you're no lady," Donovan said with a laugh.

Miranda's eyes twinkled at him. 

He had a million questions bubbling in his mind. Many of them highly personal or nosy but a few small ones came to mind. 

"Why does Jack call you Will?" he asked. 

"When Jack and I met, I was using the name Wilhelmina. He's always called me Will."  

"When was that?" Donovan asked. 

She paused and for a minute, Donovan thought she wasn't going to tell him but she said, matter-of-factly, "1919." 

"That was nearly a hundred years ago!" Donovan exclaimed. "You don't look a day over twenty five!" 

"Such flattery will get you no where, Ethan," Miranda teased. She withdrew the needle from Donovan's arm and set the tubes aside. "I'll have the results in a few hours. Jack is waiting for you down in the firing range. We need to evaluate your field capabilities. When you're done with Jack, you'll be in the gym with me next." 

"The gym? What for?" Donovan asked. 

"Hand to hand combat," Miranda said. "You can get dressed, Ethan."

Just as Donovan was putting his trousers on, the rift alert went off. Miranda looked up. Just as she was about to leave the room, Ianto leaned over the autopsy bay railing. 

"It's a small spike, Mandy." 

"Where?" 

"Narrowing it now, Evie," Fish called from the main Hub. "Up by the Red Dragon Center. Looks like it may be the car park." 

Miranda nodded and smiled at Donovan who was still doing up his trousers. "Shall we jump in with both feet then?" 

"Locals are evacuating the car park and blocking it off right now," Gwen shouted. "You want me to come with you?" 

Miranda shook her head. "No, we'll be fine, Gwen." 

Donovan continued to dress as quickly as he could. He furrowed his brow curiously when he saw Miranda pick up a sheathed sword off of her desk. There was a dark green tassel hanging off the end. It looked like it belonged in a museum. He decided not to ask as he watched Miranda put the sword into her thin trench coat, concealing it within a flap on the right side. He decided to leave his suit jacket and tie behind. Ianto had a tray of items in his hand. 

"These are for you Ethan. From your left to right, one standard issue Torchwood sidearm, one PDA and a comm unit." 

Donovan picked the items up and put them into his pockets. "Thanks, Ianto." 

"Good luck," Ianto said with a wink. 

Donovan followed Miranda down the hallway that led to the Hub's garage. She held out the keys to him. 

"Want to drive?" she asked, playfully. 

He shook his head. "Maybe another time when it's not an emergency and I know where I'm going."  

Miranda laughed. "It's really not that difficult, Ethan." 

He moved to the wrong side of the car and had to stop himself. "I can't even get on the right side of the car yet…" 

"It'll come to you," Miranda said with a smile. She got behind the wheel and started for the Red Dragon Center. 

She took the drive slower than Jack would have, mindful of her passenger. 

"Normally, Jack and I would have evaluated you before allowing you out into the field," Miranda told him as she drove. She started to dig in the pocket of her coat. "I am trusting that you can shoot properly and can defend yourself." 

"I brushed up on my marksmanship and hand to hand before I left the States but I'm not as young as I used to be," Donovan said, regretfully. 

"I'm sure you'll be fine. Your career with the CIA and the NSA has been distinguished," Miranda said. 

"Read my dossier huh?"

"I needed to make sure that you wouldn't come all the way to Cardiff just to end up getting yourself killed," she said, simply. 

"I was an analyst," Donovan replied. 

"Doctor Fischer was once a chemical engineer. Ianto Jones was an office worker," Miranda said. "We are not what we do." 

Just as she pulled into the car park, Miranda turned to him and said, "Ianto gave you one of our PDA's. It's basically an iPhone with some modifications. There's an icon on the screen marked 'RSA'. Press it. It'll narrow the rift spike area down to within a meter." 

Donovan stared down at the device. The screen was black. He chose a button on the side at random and the PDA sprang to life. He saw a number of different icons. He hit the appropriate one. He'd ask about the others later. He examined the display.

"The red dot is our objective," Miranda said. The local police didn't even blink as they moved the barricade aside for the Torchwood SUV. Miranda pulled into the garage and parked. She leaned to look at the display and Donovan got a strong whiff of her perfume. _Jasmine?_

Donovan backed away from her intrusion into his space and swallowed. Miranda raised an eyebrow at him and backed away. "I'm sorry, Ethan. I'm making you uncomfortable?" 

He cleared his throat. "No… yes." 

"My apologies," she said and leaned away. She holdout her hand for the PDA. He passed it to her and she tilted the display. "It works just like any touch screen. By pinching and turning the fingers, like so, you can obtain a three dimensional rendering of where the spike originated. Note that I say the spike. We have no idea if something has fallen through or not. The size of the spike does _not_ necessarily correlate to whether or not something has fallen through only to the size of what can possibly fall through. A large object cannot come through a small spike but a small object an pass through a large spike. The size of the spike is also _not_ relative to the amount of danger. A small spike can be just as dangerous as a large one. Do you understand?" 

Donovan nodded. It seemed to make sense. Miranda got out of the SUV and Donovan followed her. They examined the PDA screen and Miranda said, "Which way, Ethan?" 

"That way, down one level," Donovan said as he adjusted the image. 

"Very good," she praised and took off in a run. 

Donovan swore under his breath and ran off after her. _Shit, she's fast…_ He'd fallen significantly behind her. When he reached the bottom of the staircase, panting, Miranda was leaning against the doorway grinning at him. 

"Not bad," she said. She pushed off the concrete and started to walk slowly, glancing down at the PDA. "Stay behind me, Ethan." 

Donovan wasn't going to argue with her. Especially when the crushed car came into view. A rectangular box on the roof of the sedan had caved in the entire roof just over the driver's side. The windscreen was smashed an all the windows were broken. If someone had been in the vehicle, they'd be dead. The damage was more than Donovan would have thought the small box should have caused. 

"Jesus…" he whispered. 

He watched on as Miranda stepped towards the box, holding out her PDA, scanning the item. She looked up and shouted, "Ethan! I need you to step back towards the doorway!"

"Why? What's wrong?" he called out, taking a tentative step towards her. He froze when he saw the diagonal mauve stripes painted onto the lid. He quickly backed away. 

Miranda slowly stepped away from the box back towards him. She handed him the keys to the SUV. "It's a munitions box. One falls through the rift about once a year. Jack thinks there's an active rift on their planet of origin. Get one of the containment boxes out of the back of the SUV." 

Donovan reached up for the keys when they both heard a low growl, like an animal. Miranda froze. 

"Did you-"

"SHH!" she hissed, whirling. "Something else may have come through…" 

To his surprise, Donovan saw Miranda draw her sword instead of her gun. He drew his own gun and pulled back on the slide. The two of them were still and silent. The only sound was that of the rest of the city. Miranda took a few steps back into the middle of the car park. She cocked her head, listening. 

Donovan took a few tentative steps in her direction, circling around, looking for the threat. He heard it again, a low growl. Whirling, he raised his weapon in the direction of the sound and that was when he saw his first Weevil. It was crouched behind the car on the other side of the car park. The crushed car was between them. Its claws were hooked around the bonnet. _Is it wearing a jumpsuit?!_ The Weevil stood up and snarled. Reacting on instinct and fear, Donovan fired… and missed. 

"NO!" Miranda shouted. 

The bullet ricocheted off the concrete and impacted a tire on the car supporting the munitions box. The shift in the car caused the box to tip and the lid fell off. Miranda saw several round spheres fall out onto the dented car roof… spherse with mauve circles painted on them. _Pyraxian grenades!_ She noted the distinct lack of stasis locks. The small square locks should be attached to the surface with a blinking mauve light. The jostling movement likely armed them. She didn't have long before they exploded. 

The frightened Weevil howled and ran straight for Donovan. Miranda ran as fast as she could in pursuit. She leapt up, sliding on her hip across the bonnet of a car and continued running. This alien thing was barreling towards him, snarling and growling and Donovan froze. 

"ETHAN!" Miranda cried. 

Donovan snapped out of his daze. He misinterpreted her warning and began to fire at the Weevil wildly, several bullets hitting their target. She'd meant for him to take cover, not open fire! 

"NO!" she screamed but it was too late, the grenades exploded and a massive fireball engulfed the car. The concussion wave flung Miranda between a pair of parked cars. Once the car's petrol tank reacted, it too, exploded causing another fireball. Car alarms began to honk and beep. 

He barely managed to duck behind one of the other cars in time. The shockwave from the blast caused the car windows to shatter, raining broken glass down on his head. _Miranda…_  

Donovan got to his feet and ran back towards the still burning car. Huge columns of jet black smoke billowed upwards. The stench of burning plastic and petrol hung thick. Donovan coughed as he shouted, "Miranda! MIRANDA!" 

He looked back and forth and the only thing he saw was the charred body of the dead Weevil, killed in the blast. A few moments later, Miranda stood up from between two cars. Her face was stained with soot and there was glass in her hair. There was blood dripping down her face that looked to be coming from one of her ears. There was also blood trickling down her arm, dripping on the floor. Donovan ran over to her. 

"Miranda? Are you okay?" he asked, trying to examine her wounds. 

She fisted his shirt in her good hand and slammed him into a nearby car. Her strength completely caught him off guard. "You discharged your weapon near a munitions box! You are lucky it was nothing more than a few Pyraxian grenades! If there had been a Eudicite detonator, you could have sent half the city to kingdom come! Zasyadian explosives would have created a poison gas cloud that could have killed millions! Need I continue? Your American style of shoot first, shoot some more and then try to ask a fucking question will not work here!" 

Donovan felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. The Irish accent had vanished, replaced with one that he couldn't place. The cadence of her voice was also off, almost archaic. 

Miranda let go of his shirt and stepped back. "You will learn prudence." 

Thoroughly chastised, Donovan looked Miranda in the eye and asked, "Orders?" 

"Coordinate with the local fire wardens to get this put out," she said. She closed her eyes and then inhaled sharply. Donovan watched as she rolled her shoulders and exhaled slowly. It was like someone had flipped a switch. She exhaled, the anger draining out of her features, replaced with calm. As she dealt with the Weevil's body, Donovan headed for the staircase to carry out her orders. _Christ, I'm royally screwing this up…_


	2. Chapter 2

Things didn't get better for Ethan Donovan the next day or even the day after that. In fact, for a whole week, he continued to completely cock things up. Jack regularly out shot him on the range and Miranda regularly kicked his arse six ways to Sunday in the gym. Every night, Donovan collapsed into his bed, exhausted. He slept like a log, when he did manage to sleep. He hadn't had a full night of sleep since he'd gotten to Cardiff. Rift alerts continued to interrupt his nights, and every time he did go out into the field, he had managed to royally screw something up. He was shocked that Jack still allowed him to so much as set foot outside of the Hub. 

After the munitions box, he'd accidentally caused something called a Fuligo pod explode. He'd asked Gwen if it was safe to touch and after Gwen had told him yes, he'd reached for it before she'd had a chance to tell him to grasp it by the sides. Intrigued by the wispy looking flower on top, he'd touched it first. It had doused him and Gwen in some sort of gloppy pulp. The former PC had been quite surly with him for hours. After that, a Weevil had escaped him and Ianto after he'd slipped and fallen on some wet pavement. He'd been out of commission for the rest of the day, nursing a twisted ankle. Ianto had had to practically carry him back to the Hub. When the rift alert had gone off in the middle of the night. The spike was very large so Jack, Ianto and Miranda had seen to it together with Donovan coordinating back at the Hub. Without Fish to help him, he'd mis-read the screen and sent them on a wild goose chase through the northern end of Bute Park when the actual rift alert had been more towards Cardiff Castle. They had had to call Fish into work to help. 

The disasters continued throughout the week. Just yesterday, Ianto had sent him up to feed Myfanwy. Donovan had been thrilled. Dinosaurs had been a childhood fascination of him but his excitement was short lived. The pterodactyl did not like him at all. He had tossed the mutton into her trough and when Myfanwy had poked at his arm in what he interpreted as an affectionate manner, Donovan went to pet her beak. The dinosaur had tried to attack him. It had taken Ianto over half an hour to calm her down with copious amounts of chocolate and today, the pterodactyl's digestion was off. His feeding of Janet had gone even worse and he now had several stitches in his forearm.

He'd woken this morning absolutely dreading his workday - a complete first for him. As he walked upstairs towards the Hub kitchen in search of breakfast, he worried that Jack and Miranda would send him away. His time with Torchwood had been nothing but spectacular cock up after spectacular cock up. Everyone had been so understanding and patient with him but it hadn't taken long to see why Torchwood had such a high mortality rate. The work was perilous. It was only a matter of time before he got himself or one of the other team members killed. The worst part was that Donovan knew exactly how many times he owed his life to Miranda and Jack. Ten. Thankfully, neither of them had died yet and Ethan Donovan was not looking forward to a time when that happened. 

He may be a disaster in the field but he was getting the hang of the rest of the place. He no longer got lost and knew where everything was in the Hub kitchen. He was able to fetch most of the take away without any problems and he was finally cleaning the Hub to Ianto's satisfaction. 

The whole experience, thus far, had been extremely humbling. There were many who felt that someone needed to take Jack Harkness down a notch and knock Torchwood off its high horse. Since he'd started working here, Donovan had had the wool removed from his eyes. Torchwood was all that stood between humanity and the rift and what fell through it. When MiB requested an alien artefact from the Torchwood archive and Captain Harkness said it was too dangerous, it wasn't arrogance that the great Captain Jack Harkness of the almighty Torchwood knew better. The plain and simple fact was that humanity wasn't ready for most of what fell through the rift… and that the great Captain Jack Harkness and the almighty Torchwood _did_ know better. Donovan had had no idea how ignorant and naive he was until now. 

Torchwood was also ridiculously understaffed. Donovan couldn't understand why Jack only had a handful of operatives. The five of them appeared to be working themselves to the bone. The addition of two or three more people would ease the workload a great deal. In fact, Donovan wanted to shut down half of his organisation and send them all to Jack. He had no idea how they managed but they did. Most of the evening and night work fell to Jack, Ianto and Miranda as the three of them lived in the Hub. Donovan found himself feeling sorry for them as they were always drawing the short stick, in particular Miranda. While Jack and Ianto had each other, the immortal woman lived a completely solitary existence. Her smile and good humour always seemed forced. Donovan tried not to pity her. He knew the last thing Miranda Ryan would want from anyone was pity.   

He yawned as he reached the Hub kitchen, disappointed there was no coffee yet. Donovan had no idea how he'd survive without Ianto's coffee once he returned home. He opened the cupboard and took out some breakfast cereal. He began fixing his breakfast. He checked his watch. Surely Ianto would be up soon? 

Blissfully, the rift predictor was quiet for the next few days. Donovan was looking forward to getting a decent night of sleep tonight and maybe doing some sightseeing. Hell, he'd be satisfied with just sitting down watching a ballgame and having a beer but the only television was in Miranda's room. _Probably no baseball in this country anyway…_ he thought with a sigh as he poured milk over his cereal. 

"Morning, Ethan," Ianto said with a smile. He was wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt. 

"Ianto…" Donovan said, stifling another yawn. He averted his eyes. He didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing Ianto Jones wearing anything but a suit. "Where is everyone today?" 

"Monday is Fish's day off. Gwen's day off is Saturday but she's off today because she's at her in-laws," Ianto said as he fixed the coffee. "Fish was in last Monday because it was your first day." 

"Don't you, Jack and Miranda get days off?" Donovan asked, stirring his cereal. 

"We get the odd day off," Ianto said with a smile. "We make time where we can." 

"Jack really should hire more people," Donovan said, shaking his head. He started to eat his cereal, leaning against the counter. He'd gotten quite used to eating his meals standing up as quickly as he could. 

"Finding agents is difficult. It's a tough fit," Ianto informed him. "Jack likes to keep Torchwood small." 

Miranda stepped into the Hub kitchen and Donovan's spoon clattered against his bowl. She was wearing a tight black skirt and tall boots. Her blouse was slightly sheer. Donovan could see the tight camisole underneath. 

"Good morning, gentlemen," she said brightly. 

"Breakfast, Mandy?" Ianto asked.

"I've eaten already," she said, reaching for the coffee. "We've had a flag at University Hospital." 

"A flag?" Donovan asked, still munching his cereal. He kept his eyes firmly on Miranda's arse as she reached up for her coffee mug. 

"Suspicious circumstances," Ianto supplied. 

"I can't believe you guys get so much local cooperation," Donovan said, shaking his head. He switched his gaze when Miranda turned around.

She stirred her coffee. "This one was picked up by our system."

"Ah," Donovan said, scraping the last of his cereal into his mouth. 

Fish had explained the complex system to him on his very first day. The vast network of computer viruses created by Toshiko Sato sifted through, well, everything - local texts and Internet traffic, medical records, police databases - looking for keywords and key phrases Torchwood designated. Most of the time, these programs returned nothing but, once in a while, when they returned a hit, Torchwood investigated. Something must have come through this morning. 

"University Hospital has had something of an anomaly," Miranda said with a sigh. 

"Is it that flu outbreak on the news?" Ianto asked, reaching for the coffee pot. He poured out coffee for the three of them. 

"Thanks, Ianto," Donovan said accepting the mug. 

"That might be what the hospital thinks it is, but the computer system has been sifting through the medical records themselves. The first patients admitted to hospital have fallen into comas," Miranda said, fixing her own coffee. 

"That's one hell of a flu," Donovan said, his eyes wide. 

"It's not the flu. Influenza kills but usually only the young, the old and the infirm," Miranda said. She sipped her coffee. "All five members of a single family fell into comas within hours of each other." 

Donovan's spoon stopped halfway to his mouth. "Now that's fucked up." 

"It is indeed and possibly a job for Torchwood. I know it's your day off, Ethan but would you like to accompany me? It is just a cursory visit to see if this warrants further investigation." 

"Sure," Donovan said. He started to eat faster. 

"I'll meet you in the garage when you're done eating, no rush," Miranda said with a nod. 

Donovan couldn't help but follow her with his eyes as she left. Ianto stood back, rolling his own eyes a bit. He'd watched as the American had eyed his friend for the past week, casting appreciative glances in Miranda's direction. The bit of flirting going on hadn't been lost on him either. So far, Donovan hadn't attempted at anything more and Ianto couldn't help but feel a bit badly for him. The man had tried to step up his game but Ianto found him to be nothing more than a bureaucrat, a boring and mundane office worker. Sure, Donovan was a nice enough bloke and a good hearted soul but Miranda Ryan was completely out of his league. 


	3. Chapter 3

Donovan followed Miranda through the antiseptic smelling halls of the hospital ward up to the intensive care unit, a grimace on his face. It seems it didn't matter if the hospital was American or British, hospitals were hospitals and Ethan Donovan hated hospitals. Miranda walked up to the nurses station, confident and tall. She flashed a smile at the young doctor and held out her credentials. He stopped tapping at the computer in front of him and stared at her. Donovan wondered if she was unconsciously mimicking Jack. He knew enough about field work to know that a lot of it was about confidence. You'd be surprised what you can gain with some clever talk and some confidence. 

"Torchwood," she said briskly. "I apologise for barging in but I need to have a look at your records regarding the Wilson family." 

The young doctor looked a bit gobsmacked. With a thick Scottish brogue, he stammered, "Err, I'm Doctor Cameron MacDonald. I'm sorry but that information is-"

"Torchwood has autonomy, Doctor MacDonald," Miranda insisted. 

He didn't seem convinced. He looked from Miranda to Donovan and back again. "Look, I'll have to check with my superiors. I've never heard of this… What agency are you from again?" 

"Torchwood, Doctor MacDonald. If you wouldn't mind checking with them now please. My time is limited," Miranda repeated, adding annoyance to her tone. "Ryan, Miranda, Torchwood authorisation alpha five seven three, november foxtrot, four one one six.

Miranda walked away while he picked up the phone and started dialing. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. She gave him a good once over. He was about Fish's height, maybe a bit taller though it was hard to judge with him sitting down. His hair was black but the stubble across his face was slightly red, not surprising for a Scot. There was a strange efficiency about his movements, an odd air to his speech. His accent was Glaswegian but it was a bit muddled, as if he spent a significant amount of time outside his country of birth. The most startling thing about the young doctor were his eyes. Miranda had never seen eyes of such a deep, true blue - like Caribbean waters. 

"He must be new. Looks to be only a few years out of his residency… maybe less." 

"I still can't believe you guys walk in, say 'Torchwood' and it's like Moses parting the fucking Red Sea," Donovan said, shaking his head a bit. 

"Torchwood has existed in this city for over a hundred years, Ethan. We are, as Fish once called us, the worst kept secret in the city. The public may not know what we do but they know we exist. Ask about Torchwood and most people point towards the bay." 

"I'm surprised you don't have more people beating down your door," Donovan noted. 

Miranda shook her head. "Sometimes the way to generate curiosity is to attempt to stamp it out. The twenty first century is when everything changes."

"Jack always says that, what does it mean?" Donovan asked, leaning against the wall. 

"I do not know," Miranda said, truthfully. "He's said it for as long as I've known him." 

Donovan was about to ask another question when the young doctor returned looking a bit flustered and embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know-"

"There is no need to apologise, Doctor MacDonald," Miranda said with a smile, cutting off the apology. "Now, present your cases, please." 

"I'll try to explain best I can," Cam said. 

"I'm a physician, Doctor MacDonald. Please, present your cases," Miranda said, patiently. 

Cam gestured in front of him and started to walk. "We have five patients and seven staff-"

"Wait a moment, Doctor MacDonald," Miranda interrupted, stopping the young doctor in his tracks. "Did you say that your staff are also infected?" 

"Aye, it's a possibility, Doctor Ryan," he said. 

Miranda turned to Donovan. She was unwilling to put him at risk.  "Ethan, please go outside and call Jack. Let him know we have more than five cases and then wait in the car for me please?" 

Donovan nodded and took out his mobile as he walked away. Miranda resumed walking with the other doctor. "I'm sorry, Doctor MacDonald. Please continue."

"We have Barbara Wilson, Caucasian female, age forty one. Her husband, Brian Wilson, Caucasian male, age forty five and their three children, Sandra, Sean and Stephanie ages eleven, nine and five respectively." 

"Presenting complaint?" Miranda asked. 

"Generalised flu-like symptoms. The whole family came into A&E a week ago because the youngest was running a fever and not drinking enough liquids. Mrs. Wilson was concerned about dehydration. It was pure luck the whole family had come along because not half an hour after they walked through the door, Brian Wilson collapsed into a coma and within two hours the entire family was comatose," Cam explained. "A few hours after the onset of coma, they all developed a greenish tint to their fingertips." 

He came to a halt outside of an isolation ward. 

"We have them all isolated," he said. "Full protocol for the staff. We've not seen any other cases since we've isolated them." 

"The progression?" Miranda asked. 

"From we've been able determine from interviewing friends and family members, at first, it was what you'd normally expect to fid in someone fighting off a bad cold," Cam said. He walked over to the nurse's station and reached for the appropriate chart. "At first, there was absolutely no explanation for the coma whatsoever. The bloodwork was unremarkable. All scans are clear. The cultures are still pending. We've started testing for everything we can think of." 

"You said, 'at first'?" Miranda asked, flipping through the chart. 

"Two days after the onset of the coma, they all began to show signs of multi system organ failure. The wee one, obviously, is the worst off. Her liver and kidney values are through the roof. We're also beginning to see evidence of cardiac stress," Cam said, pointing at the ECG readout. "You can see the profound arrhythmia and electrical abnormalities." 

"This is a serious decline," Miranda said, squinting at the chart. _She's circling the drain…_ "Toxicology?" 

"All negative," Cam said, clearly frustrated. "Not even so much as an aspirin in their systems. I went to their house myself - organic everything, plant based, biodegradable cleaning supplies, dryer sheets I could have eaten…" 

"I applaud your initiative, Doctor MacDonald," Miranda said. "The infected staff are isolated as well?" 

Cam nodded. "Aye, we isolated them immediately even though none of them are showing any symptoms yet, as a precaution. We have them in the next ward over." 

"Is the illness airborne?" Miranda asked. 

"We don't think so. When Brian Wilson collapsed, he hit his face on the arm of a chair and began bleeding from his nose. All of the staff isolated were the ones who saw to his immediate care and came in direct contact with his blood, five nurses and one doctor. As luck, or bad luck I suppose in this case, would have it, each one of them had some sort of open wound or cut on themselves that we've identified as a probable source of infection. We also have had another case of an accidental needle puncture. One of the paediatric nurses punctured herself with a needle while trying to place a canula in Stephanie Wilson. That nurse hasn't yet fallen ill yet either but we've isolated her." 

Miranda gestured at the isolation ward. "May I?"

"If you wish to take the risk, Doctor Ryan-"

"I do," Miranda said without hesitation. He had no way of knowing that Miranda was, in fact, in no danger at all. "Your locker room?" 

"This way," Cam said, leading her to one of the doors. 

Miranda changed into a pair of hospital scrubs and then she and Cam walked into the outer room of the isolation unit. Even though she knew she was safe, Miranda still followed the protocol. She washed her hands and donned the protective gear including the pair of eye goggles. She stepped into the room and moved towards the first patient, Barbara Wilson. 

"You said you interviewed friends and family? Which of the family members became ill first?" Miranda asked as she scrutinized the woman's green tinged fingers. 

"We have, but we've learned nothing really. Right now our guess is that Mrs. Wilson was the first one infected. She mentioned to her mother that she'd had difficulty shaking a cold before their visit to hospital but had also mentioned the whole family was ill. The timeline is hard to pin down. No one else they associate with is sick. No one at the children's school nor their neighbors or family. They've not been out of the country or done any sort of traveling. It's a mystery for sure," he replied. 

Miranda moved from bed to bed, calmly examining each person. She examined little Stephanie last. _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…_ she though, resting her hand on the child's forehead. She nodded at Cam and stepped into the outer room again. She disposed of her protective gear and then began vigorously scrubbing at her hands and arms. _They are all going to die…_ she thought as she rinsed her hands. All of the bloodwork showed that it would be a miracle if they survived… and Miranda Ryan didn't believe in miracles. As a precaution, she quickly showered in the locker room. When she'd redressed, she joined Cam in the hallway. 

"Thank you for your time, Doctor MacDonald," Miranda said. She gazed into the isolation room again. "I pray your efforts will be successful." 

"I'm not an idiot, Doctor Ryan," Cam said, in a low voice. "Their chances are slim, no mistake. Any insight… anything… Please…" 

"I am so sorry, Doctor MacDonald, I can offer none. My leading differential would be a toxin if the staff you have isolated do not fall ill," Miranda shrugged. She had no idea what was causing this family to die but she'd also found nothing that would indicate anything alien was involved here. The circumstances were strange, yes, and the greenish hue to their fingertips was out of the ordinary but she knew of no Earth illness that would cause such a sign. She would need to return to the Hub and conduct some research. She held out her card to Cam. "If they expire, if you could please notify Torchwood."

"I thought you were some sort of specialist, but you're just like every other government bawbag. It's not airborne. It's not spreading so you can't be arsed with them can you?"

Without another word, Cam snatched the card from her, turned and walked away. Miranda heaved out a sigh and walked out of the hospital with a grim look on her face. The young doctor was frustrated. He had a good heart. She kept her head down as she walked through the car park.  

"Let's get going, Ethan," she said, softly as she got behind the wheel of her car. 

Donovan asked, "It's not anything alien is it?" 

"It is suspicious. An entire family fallen comatose within hours of each other with green fingertips? That's no illness or toxin I'm familiar with. I need to do some research," Miranda said, climbing into her car. "They have isolated the exposed staff, but they are not ill yet. If they do not fall ill, my first thought would be some sort of toxin. Internal medicine and infectious disease is not my area of expertise." 

"Did you ever practice medicine? Or were you always Torchwood?" Donovan asked, fastening his seatbelt. 

"I used to be a surgeon," Miranda said. 

"Really? Tough speciality," Donovan pointed out. 

"It's a speciality that has a certain mindset and personality type. I prefer to be able to fix something. That?" Miranda said and then waved at the hospital. "That is in the hands of the Gods." 

"If they die, you'll autopsy?" Donovan asked. 

 _When…_ "Yes," Miranda nodded as she started the car. She glanced at the clock. It was past noon. "My apologies, Ethan. That took far longer than I anticipated." 

"You can make it up to me," Donovan joked. "How about some lunch?" 

"Do you like Thai?" she asked with a smile as she drove away from the hospital. 

"Never had it," he replied, honestly. 

"Well, if you're willing, I know just the place," Miranda said brightly.


	4. Chapter 4

The two of them sat down at the small booth. Miranda had no real idea why she'd brought Donovan here. She hadn't been back to this restaurant since her break up with Nora Ashline. _Maybe I'm finally letting go…_ she said to herself. She didn't open the menu. She always ordered the same thing. Once their food arrived, the two of them sat talking and laughing and Donovan suddenly realised that he was acting like this was some sort of date. It wasn't… was it? 

"That looks interesting," he said, pointing at her plate. 

With a broad smile, Miranda picked up her plate and offered it to him. "Help yourself, Ethan." 

He picked a prawn out of the curry sauce and blew on it. He popped it into his mouth. His eyes went wide and then slammed shut as they began to water. It was like napalm in his mouth! To his credit, he didn't spit the food out but continued to chew through the burn, huffing through pursed lips. 

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed. 

When he reached out for the water, Miranda stopped him. "Don't, it will only make it worse. Eat a few bites of your own food." 

Donovan obeyed, eating his much milder noodles. The burn began to recede. He wiped at his eyes, still breathing through his mouth, trying to ease the burning. "Thanks for the warning!" 

Her eyes sparkled. "Call it a bit of hazing." 

He shook his head and smiled at her. For some reason, Miranda simultaneously made the hairs on his arm stand on end and blood pool in his groin. He found her unnerving and intoxicating at the same time. The more the two of them talked the more Donovan felt like he was, in fact, on a date. Granted, it had been a really long time since he'd been on one and he really had no idea what he was doing here but something way back in his mind remembered this nervous feeling. 

He'd felt like a right bastard when he'd cheated on his wife the first time. It had been before their youngest daughter, Rebecca, had been born. If Donovan was honest with himself, that was the beginning of the end really. Oh, it wasn't the reason. There really was no single reason or party you could point your finger at. But once he'd slipped his wedding ring into his pocket and fallen into bed with that dazzling brunette, well, that was when he'd known, deep down, that it was over. Sure he and Heather had given it a few more tries but those tries had all fizzled quickly and then he'd found out about what's his name. He hadn't been angry about it. He was just glad he wasn't the only one stepping outside the lines. Whenever Donovan visited a city, he indulged and after a while it hadn't even felt like adultery anymore. He was a pretty good looking bloke, suave and charming, and had no trouble filling his nights with pleasing company but the woman sitting across from him was way the fuck out of his league.

She was a beautiful woman but she was also his superior. This wasn't exactly a good idea. But then again, coming out here hadn't been a good idea either. Donovan had received a fairly decent amount of political blowback because of this. He was laying his career on the line in a way he never had before. And since he was already in a risk taking mood… 

Once their meal was over, Donovan saw a small speck of curry on Miranda's lip. Feeling brave and bold, he reached across the table and swept it away with his thumb. He let his fingers trail across her jaw. There was no mistaking the gesture.   

Miranda gave him a soft smile and then said, "I thought this was a friendly outing, Ethan." 

Donovan pulled his hand back quickly. He stood up and started digging his back wallet out of his pocket. He felt himself colouring with embarrassment. _Real smooth…_ "Yeah. It is. I'm sorry. Forget it." 

"Ethan…"

"I said, forget it," he stammered. He dropped a few notes onto the table. "We should get back. Jack'll be wondering where we're at." 

Embarrassed, Donovan walked away and back towards the car. When he got there, he realised that Miranda had the keys. _Shit_ … he sighed and waited. He was completely mortified. The idea of facing Miranda now was churning his stomach. He knew it had been a bad idea from the start. What had gotten into him? The idea that she'd be interested in him was laughable. He was an old greying man in his fifties. 

The car beeped and the doors unlocked and Donovan got into the passenger seat as fast as he could. He didn't look at Miranda as she settled behind the steering wheel and started the car and the longer he stayed silent, the more embarrassed he became. He was mortified and felt like a complete fool. When they got to the Hub, Miranda barely had the car in park before Donovan got out of it. He tried not to look like he was fleeing as he darted through the Hub, waving to Ianto and Jack as he went. He couldn't get down the north stairs and into his room fast enough. 

He stayed there for hours, he didn't even come up for dinner. He was already embarrassed and now he was compounding it with this childish behaviour. He was hiding in his room like a scared boy. With a sigh, he opened the door and went upstairs. Feeling like a completely idiot, he knocked on Miranda's door. He stood there, waiting. There wasn't an answer and Donovan sighed. He'd speak to her in the morning. 

Just as he was about to turn away, the door opened and Miranda was standing there. Her hair was dripping wet and she was wearing a pink silk dressing gown. It clung to her wet body and Donovan could see every curve, her nipples standing out underneath the clinging cloth. The gown wasn't even tied. Miranda was holding it closed with her hand. 

Donovan realised he was staring and averted his eyes. He got the distinct feeling that the dressing gown was an afterthought and that normally she wouldn't have bothered. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were in the shower." 

"I wasn't expecting… Are you all right, Ethan?" Miranda asked. 

 _Man up…_ "I wanted to say I was sorry about before," Donovan said. 

"There was nothing to apologise for," Miranda said, giving him an odd look. 

"No, there is. I acted like… I don't know what got into me, making a pass at you like that," Donovan shook his head. "It was inappropriate and I'm sorry." 

"Were you sincere in your interest?" Miranda asked. 

"Uhh…" Donovan wasn't quite sure how to answer. Either way he risked offending her and he was already screwed. _What the hell…_ "Yeah actually, I was… I mean, I am." 

"Then you have nothing to apologise for, Ethan," Miranda said and turned towards her bedroom. 

Donovan stood there in the lounge like an idiot not really knowing what to do. He assumed she was going to dry off and change into something more appropriate for them to talk. He shifted his weight back and forth, waiting. 

"Ethan?" she called out. 

"Yeah?" 

"Are you coming or not?" she asked. 

Donovan's jaw dropped and he stood there stunned. _Huh?_ She couldn't possibly mean…? Did she…? Well, he wasn't thick enough to stay out here!


	5. Chapter 5

Donovan woke, blinking his eyes. The overhead lighting in the room was on, but dim. He threw his arm across his face and groaned a bit. He was still groggy and he could feel soreness in his muscles. It was a good sore. He felt a small hand sliding across his belly, followed by a leg draping across his own. He smiled and brought his arm around Miranda, tugging her body closer to him. It had been an incredible evening… and night. He kissed the top of her head and started to trace his fingers up and down her shoulder. 

"Good morning," she said, kissing his shoulder.

"Morning," Donovan replied. 

He laid there for a few minutes, content. He was in a warm, comfortable bed and had a beautiful woman in his arms. He really didn't want to get up - well, out of bed - at all. He continued to run his fingers along her arm. He still couldn't believe where he was and was beginning to wonder if it had all been a dream. 

"Why are you here, Miranda?" he asked, softly. 

She turned, propping her chin up on her fist to look at him. Her eyes were sparkling. With a smile, she said, "I live here, Ethan." 

He chuckled and then ran the tip of his finger along her cheek. "I mean why do you have this old man in your bed?" 

"You wish to debate which of us is older?" she asked, her eyes twinkling in the dim light. 

"Don't change the subject," he said, smiling. 

"Does the reason matter?" she asked, brushing her fingers through his hair. 

"It shouldn't but I'm curious," he said, shrugging as much as he could while he was laying down. 

"Would it be crass to answer you honestly and say that I was lonely and desired company?" she said.

"Probably just as crass for me to say those are the reasons I asked in the first place. Horny and lonely… Guess there's worse reasons," he said, laughing. "At least I know I'm not going to catch anything like this."  

He carded his fingers through her hair and then a terrifying thought came to him. "Not the only reason we should be safe though. Guess I need to go looking for a pharmacy. You call them chemists here right?" 

"It's not necessary, Ethan." Miranda rested her head on Donovan's shoulder. She ran her finger tips through the hair on his chest. "I can't have children." 

His arms tightened on her. "I'm sorry." 

"I'm not," Miranda said softly. She gave him a rather stern look and said, "And you are being quite presumptuous, assuming there will be another evening…" 

"Uhhh…" he said, nervously. Then he smiled. She was teasing him. "You're busting my balls aren't you?" 

"Oh, why would I want to do that, when I have such use for them?" Miranda asked, playfully, disappearing under the blankets. 

Donovan's breath hitched in his throat as he felt Miranda's lips engulfing him. He gasped, "Jesus…" 

Just as he felt himself sliding down Miranda's throat, the lights in the bedroom began to flash. At first Donovan thought it was the flashbulbs of pleasure in behind his closed eyelids but when he opened them… _Bloody mother fucking Torchwood…_ "Miranda… Jesus Christ! Miranda… the… oh my God… the lights… stop… the lights…" 

To his surprised, Miranda didn't stop. She only increased her efforts and Donovan felt his toes curling. His eyes rolled into his head. Before he could even form another protest, he was coming into her mouth. He shouted, fisting his hand in the sheets. He blinked a few times, trying to catch his breath. 

"Jesus Christ, Miranda…" he gasped. "We don't have time for me to return the favour." 

"You can make it up to me tonight," she said, kissing him. He could taste himself on her lips. 

"Now, who's making assumptions?" he laughed and then winked at her. 

With a smile, she popped her comm unit into her ear from the bedside table and activated it. "Jack? What's going on?… No, you didn't wake me… Could get cleaned up first?… Of course, I'll be up shortly… Sure… Yes… Probably twenty minutes?… Of course." 

After she'd dropped the comm unit onto the bedside table, Miranda turned to Donovan and said, grimly, "All of the staff who were exposed except for the nurse who sustained the accidental needle puncture have started showing symptoms… and Stephanie Wilson has died. Jack wants me to collect the body personally."

Donovan closed his eyes. He'd hoped that Miranda's prediction would be wrong, that the Wilson family would survive. Now they had lost their youngest child. He could think of no greater sorrow or tragedy. 

"Are you all right, Ethan?" Miranda asked, softly. 

 _She was only five…_ He nodded, swinging his legs out of the bed. He said, tersely, "I hope you don't mind but I'll be skipping that autopsy." 

"Even though evidence points to the fact that the illness is not airborne, Jack still wants the Hub cleared. Only he and I will be inside the Hub during the autopsy as a precaution," Miranda said, standing and walking towards the en suite. "You're welcome to share the shower with me." 

Miranda turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. She hadn't even tried to convince Jack to allow her to autopsy Stephanie Wilson with the others in the Hub. Firstly, it would be a difficult thing for the rest of the team on an emotional level. And secondly, since Gwen and Ianto had fully recovered from their hospital stay, Jack had been fiercely overprotective of the mortal team members. The incident was still fresh in their minds. 

She'd been doing some inventory of the pharmaceuticals cupboard, when she'd heard Gwen scream. She'd run up the catwalk stairs. The cloud of thick, bright orange dust surrounding Gwen. The former PC had been red faced and wheezing. When Miranda had looked up, Ianto had his face in his elbow and was leaning over the source of the orange spores for the emergency exhaust system. Miranda had made her choice immediately. No one but her knew but if Ianto died, he would revive. Gwen, however, would not. 

She'd dragged Gwen down the stairs and administered the medications that had saved her life. Ianto had not been so lucky. The spores had irritated his airways, causing his throat to swell and close. Ianto was unconscious and blue by the time Miranda dragged him from the hothouse. She'd had to perform an emergency tracheotomy, cutting into his throat so that he could breathe. The Welshman still bore the scar. At first, she'd thought about just letting him go but the time hadn't felt right to her and Miranda Ryan had learned to trust her gut. 

Jack had demanded an explanation as to why Miranda had not pulled them both to safety immediately. She'd lied of course - telling Jack that she would have been unable to drag them both to safety on her own and that, if she'd succumbed to the spores herself, she couldn't have administered medical care to either of them. She'd told him she'd had to wait for the exhaust system to ventilate the hothouse before she could see to Ianto. Jack had accepted the lies but he'd been overprotective ever since. 

As Miranda stepped into the shower stall, she wondered just how much longer Ianto's luck could hold out. She had thought the Welshman was finished but he'd proved more resilient than she'd thought. Donovan stepping into the shower stall with her interrupted her musings. 

He immediately backed out of the spray against the tile. "Jesus, Miranda! You trying to land me in the burn ward?!" 

"Sorry, Ethan," she said and quickly turned up the cold water. As she soaped herself, she handed a sudsy flannel to Donovan. 

He draped it over the stall door handle and asked, "Shampoo?" 

Miranda pointed to the bottle on the shelf as she rinsed herself off. 

"Thanks… You didn't tell Jack I was down here," he pointed out, portioning some of the shampoo out. Once his hair was soaped, he started scrubbing at his body with the flannel. 

"Oh, he'll figure it out the minute we're upstairs, I'm sure. Jack is nothing if not perceptive when it comes to sex," Miranda said. She opened the stall's door and stepped out, reaching for a towel. 

"If you don't want the others to know…" Donovan began as dunked his head under the spray to rinse.  

"It will be impossible to keep from Jack and, by extension, Ifan. But it doesn't matter to me, either way," Miranda said with a shrug. "So I will leave the choice up to you." 

"I'm all for not going out of our way to hide it but I'd rather not shout it out either," Donovan said, stepping out of the shower. "Shit, I don't have any fresh clothes." 

"Your room is only downstairs, Ethan," Miranda said. She playfully draped the towel around his waist. "No one comes down here this early in the morning. By the time you get down to your room, you'll be mostly dry. Change and come back upstairs."

Donovan kissed her. He grabbed his clothes off her floor and, after slipping on his shoes, he bolted into the hallway and down the stairs with the towel around his waist. He didn't care what Miranda said, he didn't really want to risk someone catching him practically streaking through the Hub.


	6. Chapter 6

Jack and Miranda unloaded the SUV in reverent silence. Gwen, Fish and Ianto had taken Donovan sight seeing as a way to fill the time while Miranda and Jack performed the autopsy. Even though they were both immortal, they'd performed the autopsy in full protective gear. Jack had even demanded the tests be done without anyone in the Hub so Miranda had analysed Stephanie Wilson's blood and tissue samples immediately.

All she'd found was evidence of profound infection. It had invaded every organ of Stephanie's body. The only strangeness had been the green colour to her fingertips and the fact that the tissue had felt mushy, almost gelatinous in Miranda's hands. Nothing she'd found was evidence that this was alien and the purview of Torchwood. So, Miranda had returned Stephanie's body to University Hospital. The samples Miranda had taken were destroyed in the Hub incinerator. Once everything had been disinfected, the rest of the team was permitted back inside for a small briefing after their take away dinner. The mood around the table was solemn.  

"This'll be quick everyone. Will?" Jack said from his place at the head of the table. 

Miranda tapped the tablet in front of her, bringing up a picture of Stephanie Wilson in life. Her face was grim as she said, "This is Stephanie Wilson, age five. She, along with the rest of her family, collapsed into a coma at University Hospital nearly a week ago. The cause is unknown. Our computer system caught the unusual circumstances of an entire family falling into a coma nearly simultaneously but didn't flag it for our attention until the family's condition became life threatening. At first, I had thought the most likely cause of their illness was a toxin."

"Why's that, Evie?" Fish asked. 

"Five people falling so ill simultaneously highly indicates exposure to a toxin. It's one family who lives in the same home, eats the same food, drinks the same water, uses the same household products, et cetera," Miranda said, twisting in her chair. "I have altered my list of differentials now that six of the staff are also ill." 

Miranda reached forward and tapped the tablet in front of her again. The picture of the isolation ward with the hospital staff came into view. "Brian Wilson injured himself when he, quite literally, fell into a coma. He broke his nose on the arm of a chair. These six staff came into direct contact with his blood. Each of them had some sort of cut or abrasion that was the point of infection. Another nurse accidentally punctured herself with a used needle. She has not developed symptoms yet but I believe it is inevitable that she will. Since their illness was the most advanced, I examined all five members of the Wilson family, including Stephanie. I am sorry to say that their situation is critical and the prognosis is extremely grave." 

"Are they all going to die?" Gwen asked, quietly. 

"In all likelihood," Miranda answered and then added in a voice so low that Donovan thought perhaps he was the only one who heard her whisper, "and may the Gods unite them in the afterlife." 

Without thinking, he reached out and squeezed Miranda's hand. She squeezed it back and then let go, tapping the tablet in front of her. Donovan looked up and saw Ianto quickly averting his gaze. _Well, there go the beans spilling all over the place…_  

"As I have said already, had the Wilsons not infected others, the most likely explanation is some sort of toxin exposure but all tests are negative-"

"Could be something we can't test for," Donovan pointed out.

"That is possible. It is also possible it is some alien toxin. I've done some preliminary research and have found nothing but infectious disease is not my speciality. My autopsy of Stephanie Wilson found nothing out of the ordinary except for a strange feel to her tissues and this green tinge to her fingertips." Miranda tapped the tablet and the picture changed to the photograph of Stephanie's fingers. "The nail bed was green as was nearly the entire fingertip. The distal phalanges, the bones in the fingertip, were also green. As you can see, the colour is quite vibrant, like a tropical plant. My current assessment is that this is possibly within the scope of Torchwood but I have no solid evidence. It could be nothing more than a freak medical anomaly and tragedy but we're making you all aware because that could change. I do want to examine the rest of the victims as the illness claims them to be certain." 

Donovan asked, "So this could still be something alien and we just can't tell?" 

"That is a distinct possibility," Miranda said, steepling her fingers in front of her.

"We have a section in the archives for this - unusual but no conclusive evidence of alien involvement," Ianto pointed out. 

Miranda continued, "I may or may not learn more when I examine the other victims. More could also be learned if others fall ill or as the disease progresses in the infected staff." 

"What a waste," Gwen said, softly. 

"Everyone, I know this is a tough one but let's keep it together," Jack said with a small nod. "I'll see you all tomorrow. Go home, recharge and we start fresh in the morning. Will? Hang back a minute." 

Everyone else filed out of the room and Miranda stayed behind. She knew what this was about and she had zero patience for it. Jack got up and walked to the foot of the table. He leaned against it and crossed his arms in front of him, jutting out his chin slightly. 

The minute everyone was out of earshot, Jack asked, "What's going on with you and Ethan Donovan?" 

"Nothing, Jack," she said.

"That didn't look like nothing. I hope you know what you're getting yourself into," Jack warned. "You saw the background check. The man's vulnerable right now." 

"It's not like that, Jack," she insisted. 

"You sure about that?" he asked, seriously. "That's not what I'm seeing." 

"Whom I take to my bed is none of your concern," she said, standing up. "End of discussion." 

She turned and walked away but Jack jogged after her, grabbing her arm. 

"Hey, Will, c'mon," he said. "Drop the ice queen act, okay? This is me you're talking to here. You need to be careful." 

"It's just a bit of fun," she said, shaking off his grip, "and it is still none of your concern." 

"That really hurts, Will," Jack said, seriously. He backed up and shook his head. "You say no to me and Ianto for going on a year now. At least we know what we're getting ourselves into-" 

"Oh, I've wounded your pride," Miranda snapped, sarcastically. "The Goddess forgive that I have taken a man into my bed who isn't the infamous Jack Harkness!" 

"This isn't about my ego," Jack yelled, "Ethan Donovan isn't exacty your type." 

"I wasn't aware I had a type," she snipped back at him. "Perhaps in my current mood, I merely prefer someone who isn't quite so concerned with showing off."

Jack let out a frustrated growl. She was goading him and he wasn't going to fall for it this time. "Since you brought it up, don't think I haven't noticed that something's going on with you, Will." 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Jack," Miranda said, feigning ignorance. She turned and started to walk away but Jack caught her by the arm again. 

"You may have Ianto fooled but he doesn't know you like I do," Jack said. "I know you're drinking." 

Miranda narrowed her eyes at him. She was about to open her mouth to loudly protest his accusations but Jack said, "I've known you almost a hundred years, Will, and I've seen you have a drink a year, maybe. Normally, I wouldn't call a drink every couple days a problem but with you? A drink every few days means you're practically a fall down drunk." 

"I'm fine, Jack," she insisted. 

"And like I said after you broke up with Nora, that won't be true no matter how many times you say it," he repeated. "I don't know what's going on with you, Will. If you don't want to talk to me, then talk to Ianto." 

He lowered his hand and walked past her. She knew precisely what was going on with her but there was no way she wanted to talk about it with Jack or Ianto. She didn't want to upset the immortal man or incite Ianto's fears. She didn't want to show either man what time could do to a person. 

The plain fact of the matter was that Yi Mei-Xiu was was becoming world weary.  

At least, that's what she called it. She'd known it was coming for years actually. It was one of the reasons she'd retreated to the Welsh countryside. Sure, her falling out with Jack was why she'd left Cardiff and Torchwood in the first place but she could have gone anywhere. No, she'd decided to head to the country, hoping that time away in a simple life would refreshen her already waning spirits. 

She'd first recognised the symptoms in herself back when she was young - only a few hundred years old. Back then and for the first few millennia, three or four years in the countryside enjoying a simple life would have refreshed her spirits. Then again, so had a few centuries of mindlessly slaughtering innocent men, women and children - not really a road Miranda wanted to go down ever again. These days, she merely seclude herself away for a decade or so.

But right now she didn't have the luxury of going home to her simple life of solitude. She was Torchwood. Oh, she'd have to leave eventually. The melancholy would completely overtake her and she'd end up drowning in sex, drug and drink. She wasn't there yet, not by a long shot but she could feel it starting but she knew she had a few years. There was nothing to be done except to try to hide the symptoms from those around her. 

It had been the turn of the millennium that had done it to her this time. She'd been on duty at Boston General, volunteering for the shift so that others could celebrate the historical change from 1999 to 2000. She'd already seen 999 change to 1000. She'd also seen the invention of the calendar that used these dates. It had been all over the telly. She'd watched of course, not joyously celebrating like those around here, but a pit growing in her heart. Another thousand years… gone. Her falling out with Jack in 2005… the loss of Nora Ashline from her life last year had all just made things worse. 

After the millennium, she'd come back to her job at Torchwood and continued her love affair with Jack as she'd always done. She'd had moments of happiness and a few wisps of joy. She'd had a few months or even whole years here and there where she'd felt fine. But deep down, she could feel the weariness creeping into her bones and entrenching itself into her mind. It was something that happened to her regularly but she'd noticed, over the past fifteen hundred years or so, that the time in between the melancholy was shortening and the time she needed to spend in solitude to fix it was lengthening. 

She stepped across the Hub and into the autopsy bay. To her surprise, Ethan Donovan was sitting at her desk, reading her autopsy report on Stephanie Wilson. He didn't turn around or look up when he asked, "Any guesses about the greenish fingertips?" 

"No," Miranda said, shaking her head. "I did a microscopic analysis of the skin and tissues of the green areas but found nothing other than the green color. I'll have Fish do an analysis if we discover more concrete evidence that this is Torchwood." 

"You listed the official cause of death in your report as multiple organ dysfunction syndrome secondary to sepsis," Donovan said, tapping the paper in front of him. 

"Yes, her body was overrun by infection which caused her organs to shut down," Miranda explained. "There was bacteria in her bloodstream, identified as a normal bacteria of earth origin that is occasionally disease causing." 

Donovan put the report down and turned. "You don't think it'd be safer for Torchwood to take over?" 

Miranda shook her head. "Ethan, I know that it is tempting to be overly cautious but no organisation, no matter how diligent, can prevent every atrocity. We have enough on our plate without taking on something that may be nothing."

"But the risk of plague-"

"Is neither here nor there. The human race endures," Miranda said, dismissively. "I have seen plague, Ethan… Hundreds of illnesses that came and went, some without ever being given a name because there was no one left to name them." 

She sat down on his lap, running her fingers through his hair. 

"You say the sweetest things," Donovan said with a laugh. 

"It's part of my charm," she said, settling her arms around his neck. 

Donovan hooked his finger under her chin and drew her down. The kiss was warm and deep. He was already formulating a plan to drag her off somewhere secluded but there was a loud throat clear from behind them. They broke apart and Donovan blushed scarlet. Fish was staring down at them, his messenger bag over his shoulder and his car keys in his hand. 

"Was just coming to say good night, Ethan, and see if you wanted to have dinner with me and Henry," Fish said, averting his gaze, "but I see you've got plans. Night you two."

After shooting Donovan a disapproving glare, Fish walked away. 

"Shit," Donovan muttered. He extracted himself from Miranda's arms and went after Fish. 

"Joe? Hey, wait up!" 

"None of my business, Ethan," Fish said. He didn't turn around and kept walking towards the Hub garage. Donovan managed to catch up to him, snagging his arm. 

"We finalised the divorce last week. She left me, Joe," Donovan said softly. "No, that's wrong. We left each other a long time ago. She was just the one who had to guts to do it right." 

"I'm sorry to hear that. Honestly, mate? You cheating on your wife wasn't all of it," Fish said, flatly. "Evie's been through a lot. Her girlfriend left her last year and she's been in a right state ever since. So you watch it. That woman may be immortal, but her heart's as fragile as the rest of ours… even more so, if you ask me." 

Fish didn't say another word, just turned and walked away.


	7. Chapter 7

"How do you like your eggs, Ethan?" Miranda called out from the kitchen. 

"Scrambled, thanks!" Donovan shouted from the bedroom. With damp hair, he walked out into the lounge. "Can I give you a hand?" 

She smiled. "I can manage. I suggest you wait until we get upstairs for coffee. Juice?" 

"Please," he said, sitting down at her small table. At least he'd had the foresight to bring up a change of clothes for today. He picked up his mobile and started scrolling through his e-mail. He was always amazed that no matter where he was inside the Hub, he always had full signal strength. He raised an eyebrow at some of the field office reports. 

"Is anything amiss back home?" Miranda asked. She set his plate in front of him along with the glass of juice and then went back into the kitchen for her own food. She sat down across from him.  

"No," he said, picking up his fork. "MiB's trucking along. I don't know whether or not to be chuffed that it's without me." 

Miranda's egg was halfway to her mouth. "That British expression sounded quite strange in your accent, Ethan." 

"What? Chuffed? I like it. It's a fun word. I'm going to take it back to the States with me," he said with a smile. He nibbled on his toast. His ex-wife was a horrible cook so breakfast had always been his responsibility. He hoped that what's his name knew how to cook otherwise the man would starve. "Been a long time since a woman's cooked me breakfast." 

"It's been a long time since I had someone to cook breakfast for," she replied. The two of them gave each other small smiles. 

Donovan turned his attention back to his e-mail, continuing to scroll through the messages on his phone. Among the messages from the field offices and other MiB employees, there were a few personal e-mails. One from his ex-wife, asking if he would like to bring a guest to her upcoming wedding to what's his name but that wasn't the reason he let out a sigh. 

"Something is amiss now?" Miranda asked, sipping her juice. 

"An e-mail from my youngest daughter, Rebecca. She just started her first year at Georgetown - prelaw," Donovan said.

Miranda heard the glint of fatherly pride. "And she wants money." 

Donovan laughed. "Good guess. Yeah, she wants money. Probably asking me because her mother said no." 

"And she knows you will say yes?" Miranda asked, eyes sparkling. 

Donovan rolled his eyes a bit. "I don't have the greatest relationship with my kids. This is the first time I've heard from Becca in over a month. My divorce was pretty civil but I don't want it to look like I'm trying to buy her off." 

"You've not spoken with your daughter in over a month?" Miranda asked, surprised. "Is she your only child?" 

Donovan shook his head. "I have three - another daughter and a son - Kelly and Joshua. Becca's the youngest." 

"When did you last speak with them?" 

"Directly? Got to be over a year now. I get e-mails sometimes and I got some text messages on Father's Day," Donovan shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "They're busy with their own lives. They work hard." 

Miranda set down her fork and wiped her mouth. She looked at him seriously. "May I say something, Ethan?"

"Go for it," he said. 

"It is not my place to say and I hope you do not think I am overstepping but I implore you, Ethan," she said. Her voice started out softly but became more and more emphatic. "You must do whatever you can to repair your relationship with your children. You must get to know them as people and spend as much time with them as you possibly can, become a real part of their lives. Before you know it, my friend, you will be an old man - sick and dying. You will be facing the darkness beyond and no one makes that journey wishing they had spent more time working and less time with their children." 

Donovan stared at her a little gobsmacked. He let out a small, nervous laugh. "Sound advice from the woman who can't die." 

He immediately knew he'd said the wrong thing. A grief and sadness passed through her eyes. For just a moment, she seemed vulnerable and Donovan couldn't believe how wrong that looked. 

In a sad, quiet voice she said, "I raised a son once. I held him as he breathed his first breath in this world and I held him as he breathed his last. All the moments in between were the greatest gift of my life."

Everything Jack and Miranda said about themselves was always vague and they never answered questions. This was the most honest thing he'd ever heard out of Miranda's mouth and it surprised the hell out of him. He decided to repay the gift with some honesty of his own.  

"They resent me. I was always missing this recital or that game when they were growing up. It's too late," Donovan said, sadly. He shook his head. He was surprised he heard from his children as often as he did. On Father's Day, when his phone had beeped three times, he'd been surprised. "They didn't need me back then and they don't need me now." _And now they probably don't want me…_  

"It will only be too late when you are dead. And every child needs their father," Miranda said, seriously. "Tempus fugit." 

 _Time flees…_ "You're a real ray of sunshine, you know that, Miranda?" he said, trying to lighten the mood. 

She smiled. "Many people think immortality takes away one's awareness of death, in reality it is the opposite. We understand, perhaps even more so than mortals, the fragility of life, the passage of time… and what is most important." 

"So you think I should send her the money?" Donovan asked, raising his eyebrow and smiling. 

"Perhaps with the small condition of having dinner with you to tell you about her first few weeks at university?" Miranda replied, also with a smile. 

Donovan reached out and squeezed Miranda's hand and the two of them resumed their breakfast. Miranda picked up the plates but Donovan stopped her. "You cooked, I clean." 

Miranda watched him as he rinsed the dishes and put them into the dishwasher. There was a small knock at her door. She looked at Donovan who shrugged and returned to his chore. 

"Come in," she called out. 

Jack opened the door and stepped into the lounge. He cast Donovan a small disapproving look before turning his attention to his second. "Sandra and Sean Wilson are dead and the infected staff are getting worse." 

Miranda uttered an ancient curse. Donovan rinsed his hands and turned as he dried them. 

"Has anyone recovered? Or even improved?" he asked. 

"I don't know," Jack said. "I want you on the horn with that doctor over there. What'd you say his name was?" 

"Cameron MacDonald," Miranda provided. 

"Yeah, him. I want everything they've got. You might not think this is Torchwood but I'm not going to turn a blind eye to three dead kids," Jack said. 

"I'm not turning a blind eye, Jack," Miranda said, darkly. Her tone raised the hairs on Donovan's arms. 

"Don't be so defensive, Will," Jack said, holding up his hands. "I just want this to be a little more proactive now. Okay?" 

Miranda nodded. "I'll be up in a few minutes." 

Jack cast Donovan another glance before he turned and left the room. 

"He fucking hates me," Donovan said once the door shut. He shook his head and draped the tea towel over the faucet.  

"Goddess below, Ethan, what gives you that idea?" she gasped. 

"I keep fucking everything up. I'm surprised I haven't gotten someone killed. Shit, I'm surprised you and him have let me stick around!" he said, draping the tea towel over the faucet. 

Miranda got up from the small table and walked into the kitchen. She put her arms around Donovan's neck. "Whinging like a babe taken from its mother's tit you are, Ethan Donovan. Yes, you had a rocky start but so do all Torchwood field operatives. For someone with limited alien experience, you're doing remarkably well." 

He sighed and ran his fingers through her hair. "You say the sweetest things." 

"You think this is lip service?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Yes, there are areas for improvement but that is true with any of us. You are here for a purpose - to gain experience so that you may benefit your own organisation - and you are working towards that goal. You've made a lot of progress." 

"I feel like I'm barely keeping up," Donovan admitted. 

"So do we all," Miranda said with a small smile. "You're doing fine."  

Donovan leaned, kissing her. He hugged her to him, settling into the embrace for a moment. She kissed his neck and pulled back. "I need to ring Doctor MacDonald. I'll see you upstairs."

She let go of his hands and picked up her sword from the coffee table. 

"Why do you carry a sword around with you?" he asked. His curiosity finally getting the better of him. 

"For my protection," Miranda said. It was another one of her cryptic and vague answers. She headed up towards the main Hub. Donovan shook his head and hurried after her.


	8. Chapter 8

Once again, Jack had ejected most of the Torchwood team from the Hub while Miranda had conducted the autopsy on the two Wilson children. This time, there hadn't been any leisurely sightseeing for them. Instead, a few rift spikes had run the team all across Cardiff. To protect the rest of the team, Jack left the autopsies for Miranda to handle alone. Gwen and Fish were on the other side of town for an odd daytime Weevil call while Jack, Ianto and Donovan were seeing to a spike in Splott Park. Jack had been reluctant to allow the two mortal team members to handle the Weevil call alone but a sinkhole appearing out of nowhere was more pressing and potentially more dangerous. 

Jack was walking around the sinkhole's perimeter, surveying the situation, while Ianto and Donovan waited by the SUV. Not a word passed between the two of them. Ianto was leaned against the SUV, staring at his shoes while Donovan did pretty much the same. Donovan was surprised that Ianto hadn't taken this opportunity to corner him about Miranda. His surprise was short lived. 

Without any preamble and a bit snappish, Ianto asked, "What's going on with you and Mandy?"

"First Joe and now you…" Donovan muttered. _Jesus Christ, am I going to have to go through this with all of them?!_

"We're just-" 

"Worried about her, yeah I got that from Joe," Donovan interrupted, snapping a bit himself. "She's a big girl, you know." 

Ianto said, a little hotly, "You think the rest of us are giving you a hard time? You haven't had to deal with Jack yet." 

Donovan had learned very quickly over the past week that the Torchwood team was more like a family than a workforce. There were no secrets between any of the team members, no privacy. He'd also noticed the deeper friendship that existed between Torchwood's second and the Captain's PA. He sighed. He and Miranda were adults. He felt a bit like a teenager being scolded. If they wanted some no strings attached sex, how was that anyone else's business? Donovan disliked it all and found it remarkably unprofessional. 

"Listen, I'm not out to break her heart," Donovan said, impatiently. He shrugged. "We're just having some fun." 

Ianto crossed his legs at the ankles and shoved his hands into his pockets. "The ink's barely dry on your divorce, Ethan."

Now that made Donovan angry. He practically snarled, "You know, you people are really too far up in shit that is none of your business." 

"Ease off. We had to do a background check on you," Ianto said and then his voice turned snappish again. "And as for it being none of our business, she doesn't have anyone else. We're all she has. We're her family and, yes, we're all protective of her. And no, there's nothing wrong with having some fun. Just make sure the two of you are on the same page, Ethan, that's all I'm asking." 

"You think I'm leading her on?" Donovan asked. "She knows I'm only here for another two weeks, Ianto!" 

"I don't think anything. When her girlfriend left her, it broke her heart and she's still not quite right," Ianto said, holding up his hand calmingly. He jerked his head towards Jack, who looked as if he was making his way back to them. "You need to understand how hard it is for her and Jack to date people, to let people in and get close to someone. It's always going to end in heartbreak for them, without exception."

And that, at least, Donovan understood. He and Miranda had talked about it a little. _Horny and lonely…_ they'd both admitted to it. It had sounded like Miranda knew that this was just a fling but Ianto was right, he needed to make sure. 

"I'll talk to her," Donovan said. 

"That's all I'm asking," Ianto said. He looked up as Jack approached. "Anything?"

"Looks like a piece of terraforming equipment. It's not dangerous but it looks like it's still on and digging."

"Huh?" Donovan asked and Jack shot him an impatient look.

"It's a piece of digging equipment so it's digging a hole. I've got to climb down and turn it off," Jack said, slowly. 

He went to the SUV's boot and started searching for some equipment. Donovan look startled when Jack took out a thick coil of rope and a repelling harness. 

"You people keep repelling equipment in the SUV?" he asked. 

"Quality kit," Ianto said, with pride. 

Jack took off his coat and tossed it, unceremoniously, into the SUV's boot. Ianto gave him a dirty look, picking the coat up and folding it properly. Jack stepped into the harness, snapping it in place securely. He spent a few moments adjusting it and then began looping the rope through it, knotting it expertly. He tied the other end about the SUV's rear hitch. He tossed the slack at Donovan who failed to catch it, earning him another impatient look. 

"You and Ianto feed me the slack," Jack said. 

"Jack…" Ianto warned. 

"I'll be fine, Yan," Jack said but Ianto could hear what Donovan couldn't. There was apprehension and nervousness behind Jack's usual bravado. Dirt and holes still made Jack nervous but being buried for nearly two millennia would do that to a person. 

The three men approached the edge and lowered Jack down. Donovan could feel a strange vibration beneath his feet that he assumed was coming from the piece of equipment. Now that he was near the edge, he was getting a proper look. It was an oblong cylinder about two meters high, like a miniature version of the water tower. It was standing up straight in the middle of the hole without any support. The hole itself was quite deep - a good six meters or more and just as wide. The sides were perfectly straight as the hole had been drilled, not dug. Donovan had absolutely no fucking idea where the dirt was going. The soil around the cylinder was rapidly disappearing into thin air. In the time it took Jack to reach it, the hole had deepened another quarter meter. Strangely, the bottom of the hole was completely flat. 

Ianto and Donovan watched on, nervously, as Jack walked towards the cylinder. He tapped few buttons on his wrist strap and then closed it. Donovan really had absolutely no idea what the leather strap was. He'd never seen Jack without it and assumed that he never took it off. He'd thought of asking about it a few times but it just felt like one of those things he'd never get an answer about… like Miranda's sword. Jack pushed a section on the cylinder's side, revealing a control panel. He hit a few buttons and the strange vibration beneath Donovan's feet stopped. Jack untied the rope around his waist and tied it to the cylinder. He closed the panel. 

"Jack! Don't!" Ianto called out. 

"It's fine, Ianto!" Jack shouted back. He tugged on the rope. "All right! Pull!"

Donovan and Ianto began to heave as Jack pushed. The cylinder was heavy. It took some time but the two of them managed to get it pulled up over the edge and rolled over to the SUV. They were both panting and sweating. Ianto didn't even wait to catch his breath. He quickly undid the rope and ran back to the hole's edge to toss it back to Jack. The immortal man knotted it through the harness, tying it securely again. 

"I'm good," he called up to them, tugging the rope. 

Ianto and Donovan began heaving Jack upwards. Thankfully, he was lighter than the cylinder and helping them along, gripping the dirt wall. It didn't take them nearly as long to get Jack back up to ground level. With his arm on the edge of the hole, Jack reached upwards for Ianto's hand. Just as Ianto bent down, the edge of the hole gave way, along with most of the side. Miranda's words flashed in Donovan's mind. _There are no heroics with regards to Jack or myself. Ever._

Donovan dropped the rope and reached out. He fisted his hand into the back of Ianto's shirt and yanked so hard, it ripped but he was successful. He fell backwards onto the ground with Ianto falling on top of him, knocking the wind out of him. Donovan sputtered and coughed, trying to get his breath back. Ianto ignored him. He scrambled to the hole's edge.

He stood, leaning over shouting, "Jack! JACK!" 

"STOP! It's not safe!" Donovan coughed. He dragged Ianto down, laying on on his belly, trying to spread out his weight as much as possible. He shifted away from Ianto a bit. "Like this." 

Ianto followed suit, scanning the bottom of the hole for his lover. He saw nothing. The rope was disappearing into the dirt. It was taut. "JACK!" 

Donovan eased himself back from the edge and then retreated a few meters. He seized the rope and shouted, "Ianto! Help me!"

Ianto joined him, the two men pulling on the rope with all their might. They pulled and pulled against the weight of dirt on top of Jack but couldn't free him. Ianto got behind the wheel of the SUV. He started it up and slowly advanced the vehicle while Donovan watched, eyes fixed on the pile of dirt and rock. Ianto revved the engine again and the dirt began to shift. 

"More!" Donovan shouted and Ianto hit the pedal again. When he saw Jack's blue trousers, he waved and shouted, "Slow it up! I can see him!" 

Ianto drove slowly, using the SUV to pull Jack up out of the hole. Donovan watched as the dirt fell away, revealing Jack's limp body. He hoped that Jack was merely unconscious. Once Jack was up and over the edge, Donovan seized him under the arms, dragging him well away from the hole. 

Ianto bolted from the SUV and, for some reason Donovan couldn't understand, he had a with a stopwatch. Ianto fell to his knees beside his lover, brushing the dirt out of Jack's face, mouth and nose. Donovan felt a lump in his throat and dread in his stomach. Jack wasn't unconscious. He was dead, suffocated by the weight of the dirt. His face was frozen in its last moments of terror and panic. 

This was the first time he'd seen one of the immortals die. _Eternally resurrecting_ … Fish had termed it. Donovan hadn't fully understood that until this very moment. At first, he'd thought it something miraculous but that attitude was slowly changing. Ethan Donovan considered himself a brave man but the idea of his own death did frighten him. The idea that a person could die, could remember the precise moment in which they are swallowed into the darkness? The idea terrified him and he pitied Jack. But he felt worse for Ianto. 

The young Welshman had pulled his lover into his lap and was now shaking the dirt from Jack's hair and shirt collar. Donovan might not know Ianto well but he could tell when someone was holding back anguish. He watched on, feeling very much like an intruder, as Ianto wrapped his arms around Jack, cradling him gently. Without looking up, Ianto said, "Ethan, bring me several bottles of water and a few towels. They're all in the boot." 

Grateful for an excuse to leave the intimate scene, he walked away and retrieved the items. He handed them to Ianto. Donovan was shocked as he watched Ianto pry open Jack's mouth. He poured the water in and then tilted Jack's head, trying to rinse away as much of the dirt as he could. After repeating that process several times, Ianto dumped water out onto one of the towels and began to gently clean the dirt away from Jack's face and neck. He occasionally glanced at his stopwatch and the meaning of the time piece finally dawned on Donovan. 

Ianto knew how long it would take for Jack to revive. Horrified, Donovan thought, _Jesus mother fucking Christ, how many times has he seen the person he loves die?_  

Donovan let out a surprised shout and took a few steps backwards when Jack finally convulsed and gasped. He  screamed and flailed, panic and terror on every inch of his face. To Donovan, it looked almost primal. Watching Jack revive had truly removed any doubt in Donovan's mind that 'eternally resurrecting' was a fancy word for cursed. 

"Jack! I'm here! I've got you!" Ianto shouted but Jack didn't seem to hear him through the terror and panic. 

Donovan moved forward to help but Ianto waved him off. 

"Don't!" he cried. When Ianto loosened his grip on Jack to wave at Donovan, he lost some of the control he had on Jack's flailing body. Ianto let out a short cry of pain. The back of Jack's head had impacted his face. Jack had split Ianto's lip and blood began to run down his chin. Ianto squeezed Jack tighter and shouted at the top of his lungs right into Jack's ear, "JACK!" 

"Ianto?" he croaked. He stopped flailing, gripping Ianto's arms tightly in his hands. There was still terror in his eyes. The blue eyes were filled with panic, darting around wildly. He was panting, gasping really, taking short, fearful breaths. 

"I'm here," Ianto said, soothingly. "I've got you." 

"Ianto…" Jack breathed. "The dirt…" 

"Shh, Cariad," Ianto whispered. He began rocking Jack back and forth. He ran his hand through Jack's hair. "There's no dirt. See? The sky? You're fine. I'm here." 

When Donovan had first arrived in Cardiff, Jack and Ianto's relationship had made him a bit uncomfortable and Donovan had to admit to a little bit of homophobia. Not two days after he arrived, Donovan had walked in on the two men having sex in Ianto's office. Ianto may have only been wearing his tie and Jack his greatcoat but Donovan had seen that it was far more than just sex he'd walked in on. It was then that the discomfort had turned into curiosity. He started paying a little more attention, watching the small touches, the loving looks and the little things they did for each other throughout the day. The curiosity had turned into wonderment and a little jealousy. 

 _This is true love. Do you think this happens every day?_ he remembered a line from one of his favourite movies. Donovan had never experienced romantic love that even approached what the two men shared; certainly not in his disaster of a marriage. He hoped that one day, love like that would be a part of his life. The numerous affectionate subtleties during work hours were heart warming but now he was seeing a different dimension to their relationship. It was a dimension that made Donovan feel like an intruder or some sort of peeping tom. 

Jack held onto Ianto tighter, letting out a dry sob. Ianto continued to rock Jack in his arms, whispering soothing Welsh words to him as he wept. Embarrassed, Donovan turned away from the lovers, trying to give them as much privacy as he could. He couldn't blame Jack for breaking down. To be buried alive? It was the stuff of nightmares. 

After a few minutes, Jack leaned his head and Ianto kissed his temple gently. Jack took the offered bottle of water, rinsing his mouth out thoroughly. He wiped his face down a few more times with another damp towel and then turned to Donovan. He started unbuttoning his shirt and untucking it, shaking the dirt out onto the grass as he spoke. 

"You let go of the rope," he said, sternly.

"Jack-" Donovan started to say, thinking he was being disciplined… again.

Jack held up his hand and Donovan fell silent. Donovan letting go of the rope had been the last thing Jack had seen. But he'd also seen what had happened afterwards. 

"You let go of the rope. You let me fall to my death so you could pull Ianto to safety," Jack said. He finished re-buttoning his shirt and looked Donovan square in the eyes. "You did good, Ethan." 

"Thanks, Jack," he said, with disbelief. It was the first praise he'd received from the immortal man since coming to Cardiff. 

"What do you say we get this thing loaded?" Jack said, turning to the cylinder. "Ethan? You'll probably have to lay one of the seats down. Yan? Did Will say if the coast is clear?" 

"Not yet. I'll ask," Ianto said, tapping his comm unit. "Mandy? Are you there? Jack wants to know if it's safe to come back. We have a large artefact." Ianto's brow scrunched as he listened to Miranda's reply. "Right… Right… Twenty minutes at least…" 

"Yan?" Jack asked. 

"Mandy said MacDonald rang again. Barbara and Brian Wilson have stopped breathing and they're on ventilators. The staff are getting worse and that other nurse is sick now," Ianto said with a grim look. "She also said that there's been a strange development with Stephanie Wilson's body… it's melted." 

"Did you say melted?" Donovan asked, shocked. 

"Mandy says she's going down to look at it. In the mean time, Sandra and Sean Wilson's bodies are in the biohazard cold storage. She put a camera on them. We can go back inside," Ianto said, grimly. 

"That's it, I'm calling Martha," Jack said, shaking his head. "I want you and Ethan set up at St. David's-"

"No, Jack!" Ianto shouted over him. 

"Ianto-"

"NO!" Ianto bellowed. "You will _not_ shut me out of my home, Jack!" 

Donovan tried to shut his ears against the domestic. Unlike Miranda and Jack, Ianto and Jack tried to keep their personal disagreements private. This was the first time he'd seen the two lovers quarrel. 

Jack grabbed Ianto's face. He whispered, "I almost lost you. I can't. Not yet." 

"Not yet," Ianto said and then added, "but you still can't shut me out of my home."  

Jack relented, leaning forward and kissing Ianto softly. 

"I love you," Jack said. 

"I love you too, Cariad," Ianto replied. They were both trying to keep their voices soft but Donovan heard them. He shifted, uncomfortable.  

Jack let go of Ianto's face and took a step back. "I'm calling Martha."


	9. Chapter 9

Jack rang Martha on the way back to the Hub to drop off the digging cylinder. A UNIT helicopter dropped her off in the Plass and Miranda immediately set off with her to University Hospital to bring her up to speed. The two women remained at the hospital until late at night going over every available piece of data. The rest of the team handled the rift throughout the day and when Martha and Miranda had returned, they gathered everyone in the boardroom. 

Both of them looked exhausted and frustrated. Miranda was sitting in her usual place at the foot of the table. She'd shifted over a bit towards Donovan so that Martha could have some space next to her. Martha looked a bit grim. Miranda tapped the tablet in front of her, displaying pictures of the three dead children in life. 

"As you all know, all three of the Wilson's children have died," Miranda said. Under her breath, she added, "And may the Gods guide them to the afterlife…" She cleared her throat and continued. "Their parents, Barbara and Brian have both gone into respiratory arrest and machines are breathing for them. The five nurses and one doctor who treated Brian Wilson at A&E are all ill and their condition is worsening. The nurse who accidentally punctured herself is now showing symptoms. No one is responding to treatment." 

Miranda tapped the tablet in front of her. Two pictures came up, side by side. "This is Cara Sommer, an A&E nurse. She came into direct contact with Brian Wilson's blood. It is thought that she became infected because of this open scrape on her arm. Along with all the other staff, she was immediately isolated and developed generalised flu-like symptoms forty eight hours after she was exposed."

"You keep saying flu-like symptoms, Will," Jack said, twisting in his chair. "What are we talking about exactly?" 

Martha interjected, "Fever, chills, headache, malaise, muscle aches and weakness, and fatigue. There's also a bit of a dry cough and some nasal congestion. There's been sporadic complaints of light sensitivity as well." 

"So someone infected would think they just had the flu or a bad cold," Donovan said. 

"Exactly. They're what's called non-specific," Martha said. 

"The progress of this disease appears to be nearly identical in each patient," Miranda said with a sigh. "The flu-like symptoms appear and then worsen until the victims become comatose. Once that occurs, the disease rapidly progresses." 

"In the case of the Wilson family," Martha continued, "once they were comatose, their fevers rose to dangerous levels and then their internal organs started to fail then the lungs." 

"After the onset of respiratory arrest, comes cardiac arrest and death," Miranda said, her face grave. 

"Like with any disease, the children were the most strongly affected. It's why they died before the adults," Martha pointed out. 

"At first, I was unwilling to classify this illness as alien despite the greenish tinge to the fingers. But that has changed. You might want to brace yourselves for the next image." 

Miranda tapped the tablet and Donovan felt bile rise in his throat. The body bag was opened and inside there was no body at all. There was nothing more than multicoloured soup. 

"When the funeral home came to collect the body of Stephanie Wilson, this is what they found," Miranda said. "As you can see, the body has disintegrated into this gelatinous mass. Even the bone and hair have melted away. The cause is completely unknown. I currently have monitors on the bodies of Sandra and Sean Wilson so that Martha and I can get a clearer picture of what caused this. Right now we have no guesses."

Martha interjected, "Even normal decomposition wouldn't do this." 

"Status, Will?" Jack asked, quietly. 

"Right now the illness appears to be blood borne. Direct contact with blood into an open wound or cut appears to be what causes transmission," Miranda said. "Neither Martha nor I nor the hospital staff have been able to isolate the cause so we cannot rule out the possibility that other bodily fluids carry the illness." 

"We're lucky with that. If this was airborne…" Martha trailed off, shaking her head. 

She didn't need to continue. If it were airborne, an untreatable and virulent disease that kills this quickly could spell the end of the human race. 

"Fish? I want you to look back on the CCTV. It might help us to figure out how and when the Wilsons were infected. Maybe it can give us some more leads," Jack said. He put his hands onto the boardroom table, spreading his arms to the sides. "Martha? You take every precaution and let Will handle the dangerous stuff whenever possible. Right now, this is contained but I don't want to fall back on protocol to make sure it stays that way. Ianto, Gwen, Ethan and I will handle all the rift alerts." 

Jack stood up, indicating the meeting was over. Everyone stood up as well and walked out of the boardroom. Miranda and Martha had a fast, hushed conversation while Donovan lingered behind. When Martha walked out of the room, Donovan touched Miranda's arm before she could leave. 

"What does Jack mean by 'fall back on protocol'?" he asked. 

Miranda's face became serious. "Thankfully this illness doesn't appear to be airborne. It is passed only through direct contact with the bodily fluids of an infected individual. The staff at University Hospital were infected accidentally because accidents happen. There is one way to ensure that no more accidents happen." 

Donovan looked at her, confused. 

"If it comes to it… we will sterilise the situation," Miranda said, her voice like ice. "Infected individuals will be killed and their bodies incinerated." 

"They're innocents, Miranda!" he cried, appalled.

"No, Ethan. Right now, they're a threat to the human race." 

"What the fuck happened to an outbreak being 'neither here nor there'?" Donovan snapped at her. 

"That was before I understood the seriousness of the situation," Miranda said, narrowing her eyes. "An illness with no treatment and no hope of recovery? An outbreak that only kills millions is not what we are facing here. If this illness spreads worldwide, it could mean extinction." 

Donovan couldn't believe it. Not only was Miranda casually talking about murdering innocent people but she was also talking about millions of people dying like it was nothing. 

"I don't know how you can be so fucking heartless! There are three  dead kids and it's just another fucking day at the office for you! What kind of a mother are you?" Donovan barked and then stormed away.


	10. Chapter 10

"Maybe if we give it fresh eyes in the morning," Martha said, weary. She rubbed at her eyes, blinking against the stinging. It was nearly midnight. 

"You're right. Did Ifan find you something at St. David's?" Miranda asked. "Or are you staying with us in the staterooms?"

Martha shook her head. "I'm staying with Gwen." 

"She went home hours ago," Miranda pointed out. 

"I know. I have a key," Martha said. She dropped the sample she was examining back into the special biohazard slide box and took off her gloves. "By the way, Mickey and I wanted to thank you for the gift. You didn't have to do that Miranda. It was too much." 

"Nonsense, Martha. It was the least I could do since I ruined your honeymoon with that alien parasite," Miranda said, smiling. "We're all sorry we couldn't make it. The pictures looked lovely. Did that Doctor of yours show up?" 

"The Doctor has better things to do than show up at my wedding," Martha said, smiling. She crossed over to the sink and started washing her hands. "So what's with you and that American bloke?" 

"Just dabbling," Miranda said, nonchalantly. 

"Oh? And how is his dabbling?" Martha asked, a broad smile on her face. "Not quite as avant-garde as Jack's is it?" 

Miranda smiled. "Sometimes that's a good thing, Martha. Jack can be… a bit much." 

Martha's laugh turned into a stifled yawn. "Ianto'd probably have something to say about that. First thing tomorrow, yeah? Seven okay?"

Miranda nodded in agreement and started to clean their work area. Martha started to help her but Miranda waved her off. 

"Leave it, Martha. I've got it. Sleep well." 

Martha would have argued normally but she was completely knackered. She gave Miranda a friendly pat on the shoulder and started to head out. "See you tomorrow." 

Just as she was leaving the autopsy bay, Donovan was walking in. "Night, Martha." 

"Night, Ethan." 

Miranda continued with her chore, not looking up. 

Donovan walked down the steps slowly. "Permission to approach?" 

"Granted," she said, not turning around. 

"I wanted to apologise for what I said earlier," Donovan said, softly. His hands were in his pockets and he was rubbing the point of his shoe at a spec on the tile. "It was a really low blow and a shit thing for me to say." 

"Yes, it was," Miranda said, finally turning around. "There are difficult decisions to be made here at Torchwood, Ethan. We are not a law enforcement agency. There is a larger picture here that must be considered. What we deal with at Torchwood is not protecting the innocent nor is it human rights or justice. We fight for the human race. We fight to survive and if there is one thing I understand - it's that the path to survival is not always pure and noble."

Donovan suspected Miranda had seen people do a myriad of cheap and dirty things to survive in her long life. He brushed her hair off her shoulder. His hand settled on her neck, his thumb rubbing her throat. "I know if there was another way, you'd find it." 

She didn't say anything. She covered his hand with hers and gave him a weak smile and then turned around so she could shut down her workstation. Without turning around again or even looking up, she asked, "Do you wish to stay in your own room tonight, Ethan?" 

If Donovan didn't know any better, he would have sworn Miranda's voice was a bit shy. He came up behind her. After brushing her hair away from her neck, he put his arms around her waist. He kissed her shoulder. 

"I'd rather not spend tonight alone, if that's okay with you," Donovan said, brushing his lips against her neck. He took it as a good sign that she didn't push him away. 

"Give me a few more moments here. I need to secure these," she said, waving at the samples. Donovan gave her neck one last kiss and then stepped away from her. He leaned against the autopsy table. 

"Miranda? Can I ask you something?" 

"I believe you just did, Ethan," she said, again not looking up from her chore. 

He rolled his eyes a bit. "What is it we're doing here?" 

"Hmm?" she asked, finally turning. 

"You and me. What's going on here?" he asked, waving between them. 

"We're going downstairs to bed," she said, flatly. 

He cocked an eyebrow at her. These literal responses must be some sort of avoidance technique with her. It had been adorable the first time, laying in bed with her, but now it irritated him a bit. 

"Miranda…"

She turned, shaking her head and started securing the samples in their containers roughly. She snapped, "What is it with you modern humans, always needing to define something? Nothing is comfortable for you unless it has a neat little label slapped on it-" 

"Un-fucking-necessary, Miranda," Donovan angrily interrupted. "For the record? What we're calling this fling of ours doesn't matter to me but it seems to matter to everyone else. So how about you lay the fuck off me!" 

She whirled around. "If Jack has-"

He held up his hand to stop what he could feel was the start of a tirade and said, "It's not Jack." … _Yet…_ "Joe saw us earlier and warned me off. We were out on a rift call and Ianto had to say his piece. I'm sure Gwen and Jack are next. I don't need you to protect me from them. I'm a big boy and I can make my own decisions about who I'm sleeping with whether your friends approve or not. I had a great time last night, Miranda. You're a beautiful, sexy woman and I'd really like to keep seeing you while I'm here but I need to know why they all think that what we got going on is going to break your heart because that is the last fucking thing I want to do." 

She didn't answer him, just planted her hands on her desk and hunched a bit over the closed sample boxes. 

"Tell me about the girlfriend," Donovan said, simply. 

"There's nothing to tell," she said, flatly. 

Donovan tilted his head and gave her a skeptical look. What followed was a small battle of wills. The chill in Miranda's stare made the hairs on his neck stand up a bit but he held her gaze, softening his own face. And that was when he caught a glimpse of the same woman who'd spoken of a long dead son. The vulnerability reappeared on her face and just like before, it was foreign and unnatural. 

Miranda said, wistfully, "I took a chance. I fell in love and I told her the truth because that was what an exceptional woman like her deserved. We tried but, in the end, what I am was too much for her. She asked me to leave so I did. I loved her enough to walk away." 

"You're still in love with her." 

"I will always love her," Miranda said, finally looking at him. She sighed, waving between them exactly had Donovan had a moment ago. "This is precisely what you described, a fling. We are two consenting adults, finding physical enjoyment in each other, nothing more."

"That's what I thought," Donovan said, taking a step towards her. "At least now I can tell everyone we're on the same page when they corner me about you." 

Miranda made an impatient noise. "It is none of their concern whom I welcome into my bed." 

"That's what I said." Donovan walked over to her and put his hands on her waist. "We're good right, babe?" 

She nodded and then turned back to her work. She picked up the sample containers and secured them in the autopsy bay's small fridge.  

He'd spoken the endearment without thinking. Worried he'd overstepped, he said, "Sorry that just sorta slipped out." 

"I don't mind, Ethan," Miranda said, not looking up. 

He scrunched his brow, remembering what Ianto had called Jack earlier. He asked, "What does cariad mean?" 

"Cariad," Miranda said, correcting his pronunciation. "It's a Welsh term of endearment." 

"I heard Ianto say it," Donovan mentioned.

"I'd prefer you not attempt anymore Welsh," Miranda teased. 

With a small smile on her face, she walked over to him, settling her arms around his neck. He laughed and hooked his finger into Miranda's shirt collar, exposing more skin so he could kiss her shoulder. 

"Ethan…" 

"Hmmm?" he asked, pushing her back towards her desk. No one was in the Hub. Well, Jack and Ianto were but they'd gone to bed ages ago. Likely they had the main Hub to themselves. It was a very sturdy desk… 

"As we've both acknowledged this is a fling and just a bit of fun, I know you won't take what I'm about to say the wrong way," she said, pressing herself back into him. "I know you've settled into the staterooms but it's rather inconvenient for you to continue dashing up and down the stairs for your things. The dresser at the end of the bed is empty…"

Donovan grinned.  

"Sounds like a plan. Give me a little while to get my stuff together," he said, leaning in to kiss her. When he broke the kiss, he straightened and smiled.  

Miranda gave him a wicked grin, tracing her fingers along his jaw as she walked away from him. There was vintage corset in her closet that would make that jaw of his drop. She was certain she could get it laced properly on her own.  

Seductively, she said, "I'll be waiting for you, Ethan…"


	11. Chapter 11

A loud throat clear woke Donovan from a sound sleep and a pleasant dream. He rolled and blinked, wiping the crust from his eyes. He coughed a few times to clear his throat and half sat up. Jack was standing in the room. Donovan immediately grabbed the blanket, yanking it up over himself. 

"Jack?" his voice was still rough from sleep. 

"Morning, Ethan," he said. 

Donovan looked around and saw he was alone in the bed. 

"She's upstairs," Jack said, putting his hands into his pockets.

Donovan couldn't believe Jack's gall, just walking in here like this. These were Miranda's rooms. The last time he'd knocked and waited for permission to enter. Now, he was standing there, in the middle of Miranda's bedroom. Donovan didn't have a stitch on him and the blanket was the only thing protecting his modesty. He was more than a little annoyed. 

Jack wandered over to Miranda's dresser. He picked up a silver picture frame and set it down on the bedside table, turning it so Donovan got a clear look at the picture. He leaned against the dresser. He crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Sorry to just walk in, but I thought you and I should talk." 

Donovan blinked as the picture came into focus. The black and white wedding photograph was very old but in good condition. A beautiful bride was standing behind her groom, a bouquet of flowers in her gloved hands. Donovan saw almond shaped eyes and pale, alabaster skin. _Miranda_ … She looked beautiful and happy. There was a lightness in her eyes that Donovan didn't think her capable of. His gaze settled on the handsome groom seated in front of her dressed in an old fashioned suit and ascot. _Oh shit…_  

"I want to know what's going on with you and Will," Jack said, plainly. 

Donovan gestured at the bed. "What do you think's going on, Jack? You mad I'm schtupping your wife?" 

Jack was regularly bending over for Ianto Jones and Miranda lived alone in her rooms. Clearly, whatever was going on between Jack and Miranda wasn't the traditional concept of marriage. Whatever the situation or circumstances surrounding them gave Donovan the impression that Jack didn't have any right to stake a claim on Miranda Ryan. In fact, he thought the idea of any man trying to do so would be nothing short of suicidal. Squashing back his modesty and embarrassment, Donovan threw back the blanket and swung his legs out of bed. He reached for his boxers. He wasn't going to have this discussion laying down - literally or figuratively. 

"Ex-wife," Jack corrected. "Technically, late wife." 

"What?" Donovan blurted, confused. 

"Never mind," Jack said, waving off the question. "I've known Will a long time, Ethan." 

Donovan still felt a bit idiotic having this discussion in his pants but he said, hotly, "Look, I've already gotten this from Ianto and Joe-"

"Let me guess," Jack said without looking up, "they're both worried you're leading Will on and that you're going to break her heart?" 

"Pretty much," Donovan confirmed. "You know, if she really is your ex-wife, Jack, then what we're doing is none of your goddamned business." 

"You're right, who Will sleeps with isn't my business," Jack said, not looking up. "I'm not worried about her, Ethan. I'm worried about you." 

Donovan's jaw dropped and he gaped at Jack. "Me? Why the fuck are you worried about me?" 

Jack pushed off the dresser. He leaned into Donovan's personal space so he could turn the wedding picture to face them. 

"Because I know how easy it is to fall in love with her," Jack said, softly, looking down at the picture. "She's… intense. She's all fire and ice and nothing in between. She's provocative and not the way a beautiful woman is usually provocative. There's mystery around her - it's exotic and unique… like a moment in time that will never come again."

Jack put the picture back on the dresser and then turned around to face him. "No offence, Ethan? But you're not her type. When you go back to America, she's not going to lose any sleep over it. Will might like the brainiac sort of woman but she's got this terminal case of bad boy when it comes to men." 

 _And what the fuck does that say about you, Jack?_ Donovan wondered. 

Miranda was exactly like Jack described. She was this mad juxtaposition of sexy and demure, lethal cunning and comforting warmth… Jack was right. She was unique. It was why he was so drawn to her but he wasn't in love with her.   

"I'm not in love with her," Donovan said, honestly. "She's great, don't get me wrong, she's great… but I'm not in love with her." 

Jack seemed to accept this with a nod. 

"You watch yourself, Ethan. It's easy to get swept up in her." He waved at the bed, "And I don't just mean the sex. Don't forget that. I'll see you upstairs in twenty."


	12. Chapter 12

Even though there was no direct evidence that the illness was alien in origin, Torchwood decided to investigate anyway. An illness with a strange symptom like green finger tips was one thing, but bodies don't liquify on their own. The fact that no one was responding to any treatment was also alarming enough that Jack felt the need for them to keep a close eye on things. So, Miranda swooped down onto the hospital, confiscating samples and drawing some of her own. She also confiscated the liquid remains of Stephanie Wilson. Jack had swallowed his overprotective instincts and every member of the team was pitching in. Ianto was scouring the archives, looking for any sign of something similar. Martha spent the day at University Hospital, tending to patients and trying to learn everything she could.

The two other bodies in Torchwood's possession liquified right on schedule, twenty four hours after death. Late in the evening after Martha had returned from hospital, she and Miranda had watched the whole stomach churning event unfold in time-lapse video. The process was gradual, seemingly happening to the entire corpse at once. Miranda had taken samples every hour to try go learn more about the process. Unfortunately, the samples she took seemed to liquify as well. She'd handed over the liquified, green fingertips to Fish this morning and now, Gwen and Fish were locked away in the storage room turned chemistry laboratory. Converting the room had been a gift for the Australian's fortieth birthday. 

"I feel like I'm back in secondary," Gwen said, lowering a few test tubes into a water bath. 

Fish laughed. "You're good help, Gwen. You've got steady hands." 

"I wouldn't know what to do if you weren't telling me," Gwen said, removing her gloves. "Quite a row Jack and Miranda had over all this." 

"I try to shut my ears when I hear them going on like that. Reminds me of when my parents would have a good row," Fish said, rolling his eyes. "Christ, can you imagine what _that_ marriage was like?" 

"I know what you mean. A mate of mine and her boyfriend were like that… nothing but quarreling, constantly breaking up and getting back together," Gwen said. She walked over to another piece of equipment and started pressing buttons. "Speaking of mad relationships, how are things with you and Henry?" 

Fish groaned. 

"Oh my, trouble in paradise?" Gwen giggled. 

"Not really trouble. We're still settling in, I guess," Fish said. He started calibrating the piece of equipment in front of him. "Don't get me wrong, I'm over the moon. Having him here is great…" 

"But he's driving you a bit mad?" Gwen asked. She fondly remembered the many domestics that she and Rhys had had when they'd first moved in together. 

Fish carefully dropped the sample Gwen had helped him prepare earlier into the machine. He shut the door and hit a few buttons on the panel. The machine began to whir and beep. "I had no idea the man was such a neat freak. He's been doing nothing but clean since he moved in. I never thought of myself as a slob but by how he's acting you'd think I was some mad hoarder living in my own filth!"

"They always say dividing the housework is the hardest part," Gwen said. "I'm a right slob, I am. Rhys is always picking up after me." 

"I'm not like that though. I lived alone, Gwen. No one else was going to pick up after me. I pick up after myself," Fish said, a bit defensive. Some women tended to think that because he was a bloke that his flat was untidy and that was far from the truth. But it apparently wasn't up to Henry's standards. "I don't get it. He wasn't like this in Canada. And it's not like we haven't spent time together. We had the holiday in London and Paris and then back in Canada-"

"Your little holidays are different than living together full time, Fish. He's been here… what? Two months solid now?" Gwen bent down, checking the temperature on the thermometer. 

"Nearly three," Fish said. 

"Being around each other full time, week after week, is different," Gwen said with a shrug. "People say the first year of marriage is the hardest but I don't think that's true. Rhys and I got married and nothing really changed. But that first year after we moved in together? What a nightmare."

"It doesn't help that my flat is so small," Fish said, shaking his head. "We're on top of each other all the time." 

Gwen's lips started to quiver and Fish gave her a stern look. They'd all been spending way too much time around Jack. 

"Not like that, Gwen," he said, rolling his eyes. He have expressed amusement at the comment but he could also feel some heat on his cheeks. Their many disagreements did have one perk… lots and lots of make-up sex. "My whole flat could've fit into Henry's lounge in Canada. He's used to his space. Nearly everything he owns is in storage, except for some of his clothes. He's whinging about that too - having to go back and forth to the storage unit all the time." 

"Well that'll stop when you two find a bigger flat," Gwen pointed out. She put her gloves back on and took the test tubes out of the water bath and handed the rack to Fish. She didn't miss Fish's eye roll. 

" _If_ we find a bigger flat," Fish said, sarcastically. He took the test tube rack from her and walked over to another piece of equipment. He opened the cover and slid the first test tube into the slot. He started the machine up. "Here put the others back in the bath… He's being so bloody picky about it." 

"You sound quite cross," Gwen said, taking the remaining tubes from him. 

"I'm not cross, Gwen, I'm just losing my patience. I don't have time to be going to look at all these flats with him. He got really angry with me last week. We were supposed to see this flat and there was a rift alert. You remember? The one with the pod?" 

"How could I forget? I bloody loved that jacket," Gwen said, rolling her eyes. 

"Hand me the second test tube, Gwen, please," Fish said. 

Gwen opened the lid on the water bath and grasped the test tube with the tongs and handed it to Fish. He took the other tube out of the machine and tossed it away in the biohazard container.  

"Put it into the slot there. Thanks," Fish said, shutting the access door. He hit a button on the machine and turned back to Gwen. "Anyway, while you were out on that one with Ethan, there was another spike out in Splott. Henry had to cancel the appointment with the estate agent and a flat he really liked ended up going to someone else." 

"Why don't you have him look off on his own? And then he can pick a few that he really likes and you can see those together?" Gwen offered. 

"I've tried that. He wants us to make the decision together and that's a nice thought but it's not very practical. He doesn't understand that I don't really care about the details," Fish said, shrugging. "I'm a simple bloke. All I want is a bedroom big enough for a king size bed, a tub big enough for two and maybe a balcony with a nice view of the city. The rest of it? It doesn't matter much to me. Next tube please, Gwen." 

The two of them did another dance with the next test tube. Fish disposed of the old one in a biohazard bin. 

"I love him. I really do but he's driving me mad," Fish said, shaking his head. "Plus, all these flats he's looking at are really too big for the two of us and because they're so big they're bloody expensive." 

"Well you did say he wanted space to practice. I thought you said you weren't going in, fifty-fifty?" 

The other machine beeped and the printer whirred, pulling in a piece of paper. Fish walked over towards it. "We're not. There's no way I could, not at these prices. Half a million quid? I think he's insane."

"Very posh. Must be what happens when you date royalty," Gwen teased. 

"Oi, you wouldn't think him so posh when he's scrubbing the loo with a brush, apron and gloves," Fish said, rolling his eyes. Gwen let out a roaring laugh. He bent down and pulled the paper out of the printer. He started scanning the results. 

"Can't picture Henry doing anything like that," she said, still laughing. 

"Regular susie homemaker he is," Fish said, shaking his head. He dropped the paper on the table. "He gave me a bit of a dressing down." 

"Oh?" 

Fish nodded, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Back in Vancouver, Henry suggested that I hire someone to clean my flat. I thought it was a brilliant idea but the minute he got here he dug his heels in. He wouldn't let me hire someone so I made a crack about him not knowing how to clean and I really hurt his feelings." 

Gwen winced a bit. "He lives on his own too. Why wouldn't you think he knew how to clean?" 

"He had someone cleaning his apartment in Vancouver for him. You said it yourself, Gwen. He's royalty, so, yeah I didn't think he'd know how to scrub the loo, okay?" Fish said, a little defensive. He shook his head. "I felt bad about it. He tries so hard to take care of me. Let's get that last tube into the machine." 

"Rhys is like that, takes care of everything he does. I'm sure you'll work it all out," Gwen said with a dreamy smile as she handed over the last test tube. "It takes time, getting used to living with someone." 

"I know. There really isn't anything wrong, I'm really just venting I guess," Fish said as he loaded it into the machine. 

"You and Henry should come round for dinner sometime. How about Thursday?" 

"Sounds great, Gwen, thanks," Fish said. "I feel bad for Henry. He left a lot of friends behind in Vancouver." 

After another few minutes, the machine spit out some more papers. Fish stacked them all together. 

"Anything?" Gwen asked.

"Not sure, I need to talk to Evie first," Fish said. "I'm rubbish with all this medical shite." 

"What do you think's going on with her and Ethan?" Gwen asked. 

"Just sex I think… I hope," Fish said, rolling her eyes. 

"I thought you said he's married." 

"He was a few months ago when I met him," Fish said, shaking his head. "He said he's newly divorced. I'm not sure what Ianto found in the background check, him and Jack kept that pretty quiet." 

"Well, that's what I call getting back in the saddle," Gwen said, peering over Fish's shoulder at the print outs. 

"I got the impression the marriage wasn't a happy one." Fish handed her the first page. She stared down at the incomprehensible paper. 

"Well, I hope that man knows what he's getting into," Gwen said, reading over the page and still not understanding what she was looking at. 

"Wait? You hope _he_ knows what _he's_ getting into? Aren't you worried about Evie?"

"She's an adult, Fish. It's no business of ours." 

Fish looked at Gwen and started to wonder if he should follow Torchwood protocol for unusual behaviour and lock her in a cell. "Who the fuck are you and what the fuck have you done with Gwen Cooper?" 

"Okay, I know I can be a bit of a busy body sometimes-"

Fish cleared his throat.

"Okay, all the time," she admitted. "Yes, I know I set her up on lots of dates but I know they never work out." 

"What are you talking about, Gwen?" Fish said, laughing. Ever since he'd started seeing Henry, Gwen had mercifully stopped her matchmaking efforts with him. Instead, she'd focused her attentions on the immortal woman, the only remaining single team member. "You set her up with that sheila just last week. I saw her coming into work that morning. Never thought I'd see Miranda doing the walk of shame… or if I did I thought I'd it'd be out of Jack's office not the cog wheel door." 

"Just like a man to think sex is the outcome of a successful date," Gwen teased. 

"He's leaving in a few weeks. You're not worried about what that will do to her?" 

"You think there's more going on then?" Gwen asked, confused. 

"I don't know, Gwen," Fish said, shaking his head. "They seem really cozy." 

"I thought you gave her more credit than that, Fish! Miranda? Fall for a tired old bore like Ethan Donovan?" Gwen said with a laugh. "Sure, he's a handsome man - he's got that sophisticated aged look to him that some women really fancy but he's not the type that'll be able to wiggle his way into Miranda Ryan's heart." 

"He's moved out of the staterooms and into her flat," Fish pointed out. 

"I don't see anything intimate in that. Just seems convenient, that's all," Gwen shrugged. 

"How inconvenient could the staterooms be, Gwen? They're down one floor from her flat."

"A woman like Miranda? It takes more than a man like Ethan Donovan to turn her head. Look at Nora. That woman was brilliant… someone who knew who she was and what she wanted. She was fiery, she was, and she had the guts to give Miranda a dressing down when she needed it," Gwen said with a shrug. "Ethan Donovan isn't the right sort of man for her, mark my word." 

Fish's response was cut off as the lights in the room began to flash. He walking over to the wall intercom and flipped the switch up. "Lab." 

"Fish? There's a small rift alert down by the wetlands reserve," Ianto said. "Jack wants Gwen with him if you're able to spare her." 

"Yeah sure, Ianto. We're all done," Fish said. Gwen gave Fish a friendly peck on the cheek as she walked past him. "Is Evie upstairs?"

"Yup, want me to send her down?" 

"No, tell her I'm just going to clean up down here and then come upstairs. I have some results for her that don't mean bollocks to me," Fish said. "Lab out."


	13. Chapter 13

It had been another very, very long day. Once again, the Torchwood team was gathered in the boardroom to regroup and, once again, it was late at night. This case was emotionally draining. None of the fun the team tried to integrate into their work was present. Ianto didn't even bother with the empty glass that always went along with Miranda's soda. They just sat down and got to business. 

Jack turned to Fish and said, "You want to start us off with what you found, Fish?" 

Fish leaned forward and tapped the tablet in front of him. A few charts and graphs came up. 

"I don't know if this is a break or just one more chip to add to the pile. We all have a lot of information that doesn't make any sense yet. I'll let Evie explain the gruesome details," Fish said with a grimace. 

"I've been studying the green fingertips, hoping that they will provide some greater clue," Miranda said. She looked down at the boardroom table. "I severed the fingertips of Sandra and Sean Wilson between the distal and intermediate phalanges so that I could examine them more thoroughly. Within twenty four hours of their deaths, Sandra and Sean's bodies liquified as did the severed fingertips." 

"Each one had been in its own jar - some with formalin, some without. They'd all turned to jelly," Fish said with revulsion. "I ran the non-formalin samples through our equipment - some of it's time current and some of it's the futuristic stuff that's fallen through the rift, trying to determine the source of the green colour. These are the reports." 

Fish tapped the tablet. "Like Evie's already said, the green isn't just in the skin, it's all the way into the bone. What I found was a significant amount of copper in the tissues." 

"Is it what killed them?" Gwen asked. "Metal poisoning? Like lead or mercury?" 

Martha shook her head. "We need copper. It's an essential trace element required for health. Liver samples showed there wasn't a toxic amount of copper in their systems." 

"Isn't there some sort of cooper disorder that's genetic?" Donovan asked. Everyone stared at him. "What? My ex-wife liked watching that medical show, House." 

"What a ridiculous programme," Miranda said, rolling her eyes.

Martha said, "There _is_ a genetic disorder that causes copper build up in tissues that is, oddly enough, called Wilson's disease."  

A sarcastic ripple went around the table. 

"It's not a possibility? It's killed the children," Fish pointed out. 

"It's not likely the entire family would fall ill at the same time from a genetic illness," Martha pointed out. "The Wilson adults are in their mid-forties and would've shown signs previously. There are some cases of signs showing up later in life but all five of them falling ill at the same time isn't exactly betting odds." 

Miranda chimed in, "Wilson's disease also causes copper to be deposited into the iris of the eye - causing a ring around the edge. It's similar to the dark ring around your own irises, Fish, but the ring is copper coloured. None of the Wilson family exhibited this sign." 

"They could have the illness and not that symptom," Donovan said. 

"You're forgetting that they've infected others," Martha interjected. "You pass a genetic illness to your children but you can't give it to a random stranger." 

"Fish, Gwen, it's still good work. Every piece brings us a step closer," Jack said. He turned to Miranda and Martha. "Do you two have anything else?" 

Martha twisted in her chair to face everyone else. "Again, I spent the day at hospital, reviewing the treatments. They are throwing every antibiotic, antiviral and antifungal medication at these people that they can stand and nothing. They're all still declining."

Miranda was about to open her mouth but her mobile began to ring. "Excuse me everyone. It's Doctor MacDonald." 

She answered the call and stepped out of the room. 

"Was that 'Call Me Maybe'?" Martha exclaimed in surprise. 

Ianto rolled his eyes and said to Martha, "Don't ask. That woman has the music tastes of a teenager." 

Miranda walked back into the room and looked at everyone. "Barbara and Brian Wilson are dead. They went into cardiac arrest and the staff were unsuccessful in resuscitating them." 

Everyone at the table looked down into their laps. Jack spoke first. "We need those bodies. We've no new victims, right?" 

"None as of now, Jack," Miranda said. 

"Do you want me to bring in UNIT, Jack? Maybe the biologics department can help?" Martha offered. 

Jack shook his head. "It's not spreading. The situation is contained right now and I don't want to risk anyone else accidentally infecting themselves. Ethan? Ianto? You want to let everyone know about our progress with the CCTV?" 

"We've got facial recognition pulling up everything it can find on the Wilson family. Jack, Ethan and I have been taking a look at it, hoping to see where the infection point was but we've found nothing significant yet," Ianto said. 

"And we're going to keep looking. Fish? Help us out now that you're done with the samples," Jack said. He looked at each person and said, "Gwen? Fish? Go home. Ianto? Ethan? Get some sleep. Martha? Will? You said we have twenty four hours before we lose these bodies?" 

The two physicians nodded. 

"Right, Will? You and I'll go to University Hospital now and bring them back here, toss them into the biohazard cold storage. Martha, I want you go to Gwen's and get a good eight hours of sleep." 

"But Jack-"

"I mean it, Martha!" Jack snapped. "We're all exhausted. Tired people make mistakes and I don't want anyone getting infected by accident here. Got it? Good."

Recognising the end of the meeting, everyone began to disperse. 

Donovan touched Miranda's arm. "Do you want me to wait up for you?" 

She shook her head. "I may be a while. Go, get some sleep." 

He gave her a weak smile and then leaned forward, kissing her cheek. Jack shot her a dirty look as he walked past and Miranda rolled her eyes at him. It didn't take the two of them long to collect the bodies and get them into the biohazard cold storage unit. What did take them a while was setting up the equipment around the bodies. A few scanners, probes and cameras were placed around them to watch the liquefaction process. Once it was all set up, Jack ordered Miranda to get a good night's sleep and, after shooting her another dirty look, he headed for the bunker. 

Now that the Hub was quiet, Miranda decided to ignore Jack's order. She settled in to do some archival searching; searching she couldn't do with anyone else around. She knew a few hidden areas of the archive that Ianto knew nothing about. Ianto would never be happy about it but Jack had plenty of hidden rooms filled with files and artefacts that could never be destroyed nor could they ever see the light of day. According to the official archive, they didn't exist. It wasn't about Ianto not knowing about something dangerous, it was about shame. These rooms were full of demons and skeletons and they weren't just Jack's. Miranda walked those rooms now, a small twist in her stomach. She flipped through the files. _Nothing…_ It had been a long shot anyway.

She went back upstairs but instead of climbing into bed next to Ethan Donovan, she decided to review some of the blood slides. Maybe she'd missed something. After a dozen slides or so, her eyes had begun to sting. She closed them for a brief moment. A hand on her shoulder startled her. 

"Ifan!" she gasped, turning. 

"Well now, that's twice in four years," he said with a chuckle. 

"Twice?" she asked, rubbing at her eyes again. 

"Twice I've been able to sneak up on you," Ianto said, laughing again. He was wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms and one of Jack's white t-shirts. "You always seem to know when I'm about." 

Miranda gave him a weak smile. The young Welshman's latent immortality constantly alerted her to his presence, causing a slight pressure behind her eyes. Since she was so attuned to associating the sensation with danger, Ianto could rarely sneak up on the immortal woman. She must have dozed off. 

"What time is it?" she asked. 

"It's half three. I came up for a midnight snack. Ethan'll be wondering where you are," Ianto said, leaning against her desk. "I, erm, noticed he moved out of the staterooms." 

"Don't read into that, Ifan. This is merely more… convenient," Miranda said, rolling her eyes. She rubbed at her eyes again. She leaned over the microscope, removing the slide. It slipped from her tired fingers and shattered on the tile. Miranda uttered and ancient curse and snapped, "Goddess below!" 

"Let me," Ianto said, turning to fetch a broom.

"No, Ifan, are you daft?" Miranda said, shooing him away with her hands. "Jack would have my head if he knew I'd allowed you anywhere near this mess." 

Miranda wet some paper towels and began sweeping up the glass. She dumped it and paper towels into the biohazard bin. She disinfected the floor, wiping it clean and felt a sting. She stood, lifting her finger, staring at the piece of glass imbedded in the skin. 

Ianto saw blood well out of the cut when Miranda plucked the glass from her finger. She dropped it into the biohazard bin, sticking her finger in her mouth to wipe the blood away. She took it out, examining it. 

"Already healed," she said, shrugging. "Suppose I should be off to bed." 

"I doubt Ethan is still…. up," Ianto said, waggling his eyebrows at her. It was a distinctly Jack-like expression.

"You have been spending far too much time around Jack," Miranda teased as she went up the bay stairs. "I'll see you in the morning, Ifan."


	14. Chapter 14

"Well, you said that when you ask about Torchwood most people point towards the bay," Donovan said, nodding at the CCTV screen. 

"Yeah but nobody actually shows up," Jack said, grinning. "He's persistent." 

"Been there twenty minutes, now," Ianto said. 

"By the Gods, we are not having that conversation again," Miranda snapped. 

"What conversation?" Fish asked. 

"The one we had before we hired you," Miranda said with an eye roll. "I will admit that Doctor MacDonald's initiative is commendable." 

"Wonder why he just didn't call this time," Donovan said, thinking aloud. 

"Don't know," Miranda said with a sigh. "Suppose I'll go up and talk to him." 

"Well I'm not doing it," Gwen said from her workstation. "Despite what you lot say I'm not the recruitment officer." 

"I'm not going to offer him a job, Gwen," Miranda said. "I'm just going to see what the bloody hell he's doing loitering on our front door." 

"We should keep an eye on him, Will. Might be good to keep him in mind," Jack said with a shrug. 

"Maybe we should both go?" Martha asked. 

"Good idea. Let's go, Doctor Jones," Miranda said with a smile. 

The two of them hopped up onto the invisible lift and rode it upwards. They stepped out of the perception filter and walked towards the pacing Cameron MacDonald. He looked relieved when he caught sight of both women. 

"Good afternoon, Doctor MacDonald," Miranda said, brightly. 

"Doctor Ryan… Doctor Jones," Cam said, with a slight nod. 

"Doctor MacDonald," Martha said. She grinned, feeling like she was in the middle of some bad medical show. 

"What brings you down to the bay?" Miranda asked. "The view is quite stunning." 

"That girl's body… it just… It melted! Bodies don't just bloody melt!" Cam exclaimed. His voice had risen and he glanced about. 

"A medical anomaly to be sure," Miranda said, tilting her head. "It was good to see you, Doctor MacDonald." 

Martha and Miranda looked at each other. Cam wasn't here with new information, he was merely curious about the strangeness going on.

"I asked about you lot round the hospital," he shouted. 

"Did you, now?" Martha asked. 

"No one wants to say anything," Cam said, shaking his head. "They all say it like it's a curse - Bloody Torchwood." 

"Is that why you are here, Doctor MacDonald? To discuss strange goings on and gossip?" Miranda asked. 

Cam held out a piece of paper. "The hospital's trying to cover it up as a MRSA outbreak. I protested and they took my patients from me. When I started investigating on my own, they dismissed me. You've got to help!" 

The hospital would continue to cooperate whether Cameron MacDonald was the doctor in charge of the cases or not. The fact that the hospital was creating the cover-up story for them was to their advantage. The two women admired Cam's devotion to his patients but there was no reason for them to insist the hospital reinstate him. 

"There's nothing we can do, I'm sorry," Martha said. 

"Not our department, Doctor MacDonald," Miranda said. 

Neither woman had paid attention to the paper Cam was waving at them. 

"You don't understand! This is why I flushed my bleeding medical career straight down the cludgie - to get this to you lot," he said, brandishing the paper again. "I stole it from Jake Oliver's chart. He's one of the nurses. He's in a coma. All the staff except for the nurse with the needle puncture are in comas. I don't care about that sodding job. I care about these people! A whole family is dead!" 

Miranda took the paper from Cam and read it quickly, Martha looking over her shoulder. " _Staph. aureus_ in the blood cultures? We know that already." 

"No! Keep reading!" he said, pointing at the bottom of the page. 

Miranda read aloud. "Analysis of a poorly stained sample revealed possible secondary bacteria, rod-like with no stain-uptake…" 

"They dismissed it as sample contamination," Cam said. 

"Can you get us the sample they used?" Martha asked. "The particular slide?" 

"No, I told you, I've been dismissed. Everything is locked away in the hazardous section of the lab," he said, shaking his head. "It's an old report. I nicked it."

"Thank you for your assistance, Doctor MacDonald," Miranda said as she and Martha walked away. 

"Hey!" Cam shouted, jogging after them. "Oi! I'm not done here!" 

Miranda whispered to Martha who continued to head for the invisible lift. Miranda turned and blocked Cam's path. "Doctor MacDonald, your zeal and compassion are commendable. You clearly care for your patients and I am sorry about your job-"

"I told you already, I don't give a damn about my bleeding job," Cam snapped. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said the last time we met. I don't know who you lot are and I don't give a damn but there's something big on here… something more and I need to know what it is!" 

"Go home to Glasgow, Doctor MacDonald," Miranda said, turning. "There is nothing for you here." 

Cam grabbed her arm. "Is that your final word on it, Doctor Ryan?" 

"That is entirely up to you. Good day," Miranda said, turning towards the invisible lift. 

Cam let out a frustrated grunt and punched at the air, angrily. He whirled, his hands on his hips, shaking his head. He turned and started to walk in the direction Miranda had gone with his head down. _Bloody insufferable woman…_  

"Wait a minute there, lass…"  he trailed off. Miranda was gone. She's vanished into thin air! He ran back and forth across the Plass looking every which way but her and the other woman had vanished!

 _Go home to Glasgow…_ she'd said. 

Cameron MacDonald had come back to Cardiff a few years ago hoping to find answers to questions about his own life but he'd found nothing. He'd been in this city for years now and all he'd found was more strange goings on and more questions. Cam heaved out a sigh and decided losing his job was a sign, the final straw maybe. He decided to follow Miranda's advice and head for Glasgow.


	15. Chapter 15

The information Cam had given them turned out to be a wild goose chase. Every single one of Jake Oliver's confiscated slides showed nothing but Martha and Miranda took the report as evidence that there was some sort of pathogen involved. They just couldn't test for it… with today's equipment and methods. So, it was time to bring out the big guns. With Jack's permission, Martha and Miranda loaded Torchwood's medical scanner into the SUV's boot with Jack and Ianto's help. Jack had insisted on accompanying them to hospital, not wanting to let the scanner out of his sight. Miranda had insisted he drive like a civilised human being, citing the delicate equipment in their boot. It was large, about the size of an overnight suitcase but it performed functions that today's medical scanners could only dream about. Just by looking at it, you could tell it didn't belong. It was clearly not a time-current piece of technology and Jack had been reluctant to let it out of the Hub but Miranda and Martha had been most persuasive… They'd both yelled at him. 

Miranda didn't have to flash her Torchwood credentials at the hospital. The silhouette of Jack's greatcoat was all they'd needed. Martha had scanned the patients donned in protective gear and the scanner in a special cover while Jack and Miranda had kept the staff, the families and the curious away. When the scanner had first come through in 2007, Jack had identified it as an 'antiquated piece of junk' from the thirty third century that hadn't worked anyway. But the technical genius of Toshiko Sato and the medical prowess of Doctor Owen Harper were all they'd needed to make it brand new.

It would scan each patient and store the information. It was instantaneous and thorough… but with a single drawback. The display was in a futuristic language that Jack's vortex manipulator would have to translate before they could understand it. It was the reason that they didn't use the scanner routinely.  

They'd needed barely an hour at the hospital to scan the patients and return to the Hub. But it took Jack nearly all morning to translate the scanner's results… for the first patient. He had no idea what he was translating so he'd needed Miranda and Martha sitting by his side to constantly review and revise the translation as he made it. Rift alerts also popped up throughout the day that would occasionally interrupt their efforts. as an immortal team member was required for each field call. Jack's vortex manipulator was required for the translation but with Martha temporarily part of the team, Miranda would go as often as she could. When there was more than one call, everything ground to a halt as Jack had to abandon the translation. The three of them were back in the boardroom after just such an interruption and they were all quite frustrated. The first patient's translation was done and now they were working on the second. 

"Patient has protein lost something," Jack spouted, staring at his manipulator's tiny display. 

"That doesn't make any sense," Martha said. 

"To you and me both," Jack shrugged. "Protein lost… loss… losing… Protein losing…" 

"Is there more to the sentence?" Miranda asked. 

"Yeah give me a sec," Jack said, tapping at his manipulator. "Sorry, sentence structure-"

"-is different in this dialect, you said already, Jack," Miranda finished for him. 

Jack glared at her. "Be a little patient, Will."

"Said the pot to the kettle," Miranda replied.

Martha put her hands on both their arms. "C'mon you two." 

An annoyed look passed between Jack and Miranda before Jack continued on with the translation. Martha sighed inwardly. These translations had been hardest on her not because of the work but because of her colleagues. She'd spent most of her time mediating between the two immortals and she was coming to the end of her own rope. There seemed to be no end to the bickering. 

"Patient is protein losing nephron-" Jack said. 

"Protein losing nephropathy," Miranda said, over him.

"-and enteron," Jack finished. 

"Protein losing enteropathy and nephropathy," Martha said. She looked at the growing translation, handwritten in front of her. "It's not telling us anything we don't know. Jack can you scan the results? Is there a line that says differential or diagnosis or causative agent or anything like that?" 

"That's not how this dialect works, Martha," Jack said, tapping his manipulator. "Words are taken from the translation of the words around it. It's a lot of context which is why-"

"-the translation is so difficult," Miranda finished for him. 

Martha hissed at Miranda in a low voice, "Will you stop baiting him?" 

"Give me a break, Will. This would make the mainframe's translation matrix have a litter of kittens," Jack said, pointing at the screen. 

"Perhaps this would progress faster if you kept the commentary to a minimum-"

"Now who's the pot and who's the kettle, Will?" Jack asked, hotly. 

Martha slammed her hands down onto the boardroom table and stood up, glaring at the two of them. She'd had enough. "How about the both of you stop this?! You're bickering like an old married couple!" 

Miranda shot Jack a glare. 

"I didn't tell her!" Jack said, defensive. 

"Tell me what?" Martha asked. She glared at Jack and Miranda. "Oi! Keep up this nonsense and you two'll really be in for the dressing down of your lives and seeing who I'm talking to, that's saying something!" 

"We are an old married couple," Miranda said, rolling her eyes. 

"What?" 

"Martha, meet the ex-wife," Jack said, jerking his head in Miranda's direction. 

"Oh, _ex-_ wife. Surprise of the century there with the way you two behave!" Martha shouted, glaring at the two immortals. "Look, you're both God knows how old! So how's about you start acting it! People's lives are on the line here!" 

That seemed to get Miranda and Jack to stop most of their bickering and they settled down to the translation in ernest. They'd only translated three out of the seven reports from the scanner. If they kept at it, they'd get through the rest tomorrow. It was tempting for them to just ignore the rest of the scans since the first three showed nothing new. The scanner hadn't identified a causative agent nor made a diagnosis. It had only suggested the proper course of treatment but just because that was the case with the first three didn't mean it would be so with the next four.

They would have to keep at it and that was just what the three of them did all the next day. Thankfully, the rift didn't interrupt them much. There'd been a bit of a thing with a carnivorous alien plant and another incident with a Blowfish drugs deal gone wrong but other than that, Martha, Jack and Miranda were left to the translation. It was early evening, when they'd finally finished and all three of them were horribly disappointed. 

Nothing. 

The scanner had told them nothing new at all. Two whole days of work and they knew nothing more than what their time-current medical technology had told them. The comatose patients were heading towards organ failure with no cause detected. They'd scrutinised each translation anyway, hoping to glean something… Anything really. It was well into the night when Martha declared herself defeated, returning to Gwen's guest room. 

Miranda rubbed at her tired eyes. She must be a bit dehydrated, her throat and mouth felt dry. _Too much soda…_ she thought. Perhaps a nice cup of tea would help. Her legs felt like lead as she walked into the Hub kitchen to set the kettle. She rolled her shoulders as she waited. _Bloody chairs…_ she sighed to herself. Sitting in the boardroom chairs for long periods tended to make her feel out of joint. When the kettle turned off, Miranda poured the hot water into the mug and dunked the teabag up and down. She squirted a fair amount of honey into the steaming tea and, with the mug in hand, walked down the north stairs to her rooms. She shivered when she opened the door. Donovan preferred the thermostat set a good deal lower than Miranda did. She indulged him in it, he wouldn't be here for long and there were plenty of ways to warm up. She drank the warm tea down and left the mug in the sink. She'd deal with it tomorrow. 

After stripping nude, she scrambled under the blankets as quickly as she could to escape the chilled room immediately pressing herself into Donovan's warm body. This was the second night in a row that she'd collapsed into bed so very late. She was spooned tightly behind him, grateful for his warmth. Donovan reached back for her arm, tugging it around his waist. She hadn't meant to wake him and felt a bit badly for it. The long hours and sleep deprivation were hard on the rest of the team but especially so on Donovan, an aging man in his fifties. 

"What time is it?" he asked sleepily. 

"Late. Go back to sleep, Ethan," she said, softly, kissing the back of his neck. She shivered. 

"Cold, babe?" he asked. 

"A bit," she replied. 

He sat up and dragged the coverlet up over them and then murmured an apology before falling back to sleep. He began to snore loudly as always. The noise didn't overcome her exhaustion and Miranda was asleep within minutes.


	16. Chapter 16

Donovan woke the next morning before Miranda. It surprised him. The immortal woman was always awake first. He rolled, staring at her as she slept. There was a slight furrow to her brow and her arms were crossed in front of her. Even in sleep she looked troubled. He wondered what it would be like to see her truly relaxed and free. He got out of bed as carefully as he could. Miranda was an incredibly light sleeper and he didn't want to wake her. He was actually grateful to be showering alone. Miranda always scalded him with the water. 

With the towel around his waist, he walked back into the bedroom to get dressed and she was still asleep. She'd been working so hard lately that Donovan decided to let her sleep. He picked up his clothes to get dressed in the other room. He kissed the side of her head, letting the hair brush through his fingertips. He didn't want to wake her mucking about in her kitchen either. He'd find breakfast upstairs. 

He saw gooseflesh on her upper arm and drew the blankets up over her further. He walked over to the thermostat, turning the temperature up so that the room wouldn't be quite as cool. He couldn't help but plant one more soft kiss to the side of her head before he left the room. He even stopped at the doorway, looking back at the blanket as it rose and fell while she breathed. 

Three days ago, Jack had given him a warning and Donovan had told him, honestly, that he wasn't in love with her. Now, he wasn't sure he could say the same thing. At first, it had just been sex - utterly fucking mindblowing sex, yes, but just sex nonetheless. When he'd thought of Miranda at the beginning of this affair, it had stirred lust and desire. After only a few days of sharing her bed, Donovan couldn't deny the growing warmth in his heart when his thoughts turned to the immortal woman. He was falling in love with her. He thrust his feelings aside, not wanting to deal with their implications just yet. 

When he got upstairs, he waved at the rest of the team. He winced a bit. Everyone was already working and he was just getting in. He must have had more of a lie in than he'd thought. It was so hard to tell what time it was down here without the sun. He should have set an alarm but he was so used to Miranda waking him up every morning. He walked towards his workstation. There was a mug of hot coffee beside a few buttered Welsh cakes. How Ianto Jones had such good timing was beyond him. He bit into the Welsh cake and his eyes rolled back a bit. Ianto had introduced him to the traditional Welsh item after he'd first arrived and they'd become his favourite. Whenever Ianto went to the bake shop for breakfast, he picked Donovan up a few. He wondered how he'd be able to get them when he went home. _Probably have to learn how to make them…_  

"Thanks, Ianto!" Donovan shouted out. He had no idea where the Welshman was but he had to be about somewhere. The coffee in the mug was still steaming. 

Donovan had just finished the first Welsh cake when Ianto came out of Jack's office, straightening his tie. He looked around and called over to Donovan, "Ethan? Where's Mandy?" 

"I left her downstairs. She's still asleep. What's that expression you people use? Knackered?" Donovan yelled back. 

Concern passed over Ianto's face and he briskly walked towards the north stairs. Ianto Jones had never known Miranda Ryan to sleep past six in the morning, regardless of when she went to sleep. It was half eight now… no it was nearly nine! He knocked on her door and waited. There was no answer. He grasped the knob and turned, opening the door and sticking his head into the lounge. 

"Mandy?" he called. An annoyed grunt was the only reply he got. When he walked into the bedroom, he raised an eyebrow. Miranda was still in bed, burrowed under the blankets looking as if she firmly planned on staying there. "Mandy? You all right?" 

"Groggy this morning," she said with a sigh. She rolled and sat up. Ianto politely averted his eyes as the blanket fell away from her bare chest. "Chilly in here." 

"A bit," Ianto said. "You said Ethan likes the temperature low." 

"He does. He complains I scald him in the shower but he freezes me all night," Miranda said with a laugh and then coughed. "Bit dry too." 

"I'll get you some coffee," Ianto said. "I was worried about you. Not like you to have a lie in." 

"I think I've been pushing myself too hard. I've been neglecting my exercise as well and that always makes me sluggish," Miranda said. She threw back the blankets and swung her legs out of bed. She rolled her shoulders and rubbed at her neck. "Must get round to getting a new pillow soon. This one's given me a crick." 

"I'll see you upstairs," Ianto said and turned towards the door. Just as he did, Miranda sniffled, hard. Ianto stopped at the noise. He'd never heard her do that before. She cleared her throat and sniffled again. Ianto turned. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn it sounded… congested. He walked over to the wall and twisted the dimmer switch, increasing the light. 

"Goddess below, Ifan, I'm awake. There's no cause to blind me," Miranda snipped. 

"You feeling all right, Mandy?"

Concern had him ignoring her nudity. He looked at her up and down. In the brighter light, she looked a bit peaky. There was gooseflesh raised on her body, her nipples hardened, and she was still shivering slightly. There was a weary look about her. 

"As I said, Ifan, I believe I'm overworking myself and ignoring my exercise regime has not helped," she insisted. 

Ianto took two quick steps towards her and pressed the heel of his hand against her forehead. "You feel warm…" 

She waved at the bed. "The extra blankets to keep out the chill from Ethan's love of frigid temperatures. I'll be up in a minute. A good hot shower is just what I need." 

Ianto nodded and left her to it. When she got into the shower stall, Miranda was glad Donovan had already gone upstairs. She turned the water up as hot as she could stand it, grateful for the warmth. She simply had to talk to him. There had to be a compromise. There was no way she could continue to allow him to lower the thermostat like this. Once she'd rinsed off, she rested her forehead against the tile wall, a wave of fatigue coming over her. Perhaps later she'd go for a quick run or get in some sword practice. She hadn't done either since she and Donovan had begun their affair and this sluggishness was extremely unpleasant. While their dabbling was pleasurable, it certainly wasn't what she would consider athletic. 

She stepped out of the shower and the cold air immediately made her shiver. Once she was dry, she put on a pair of wool slacks and a thick jumper, layered with a thinner blouse. After she'd warmed up, she'd take the jumper off. By the time she'd gotten up to the main Hub, she'd also made a vow to get into bed earlier tonight. Her limbs felt like lead and she was dragging. She let out another dry cough as she settled at her desk. The air was so dry in here today. She'd have Ianto check the air systems. Usually, they barely kept up with the humidity from the bay and the water tower. 

With the stack of translations in her hand, she began to read, leaning back slightly. She rubbed at her shoulders. The crick in her neck was spreading. _Definitely time for a new pillow…_ She continued to read, her eyes drooping. She sat up straighter, trying to alleviate the ache in her shoulders and neck. She put the papers down on her desk and leaned forward on her elbows, rubbing at her burning eyes. She didn't understand it. She'd slept like a log the night before. It felt as if every ounce of energy had been sucked out of her body. All she wanted to do was crawl back under her blankets and fall asleep. A can of soda appeared next to her. 

"You all right, Mandy?" Ianto asked. 

"I'm fine. I must not have slept well. Ethan snores loudly," she said, smiling. 

Now that she was upstairs in the well lit autopsy bay, Ianto was certain that she looked peaky. Her complexion was normally very fair but there was a slightly greyish cast to the skin. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked exhausted. In fact, she looked as if she'd just revived from a particularly difficult death. 

"You haven't died recently, have you, Mandy?" he asked. 

"No, not since that weapon pack the day Ethan got here," she said. 

"Mandy? Where's the vitals scanner?" Ianto asked. 

"My bag on the floor over there," she said, waving in that general direction. "Are you not feeling well, Ifan?" 

He didn't answer her, digging the small metallic cylinder out of the bag. He tapped the end, turning it on, and then waved it across Miranda's back. 

"Goddess below, Ifan, what do you think you're doing?" she asked, trying to wave him off. 

"Satisfying my curiosity," he said. The scanner had never once been used on Miranda. It beeped, indicating it was done. Ianto turned it on its side and pulled it apart, revealing the small screen. His eyes scanned through the heart rate, blood pressure and then widened when he got to the temperature. _Thirty eight point four?!_ He pushed the scanner back together and ran it over himself to make sure the scanner wasn't malfunctioning. _All normal…_ Then he ran it over her again to make sure he wasn't imagining things. He read the display… twice. The temperature reading was the same. He shook his head, disbelief on every inch of his face. Incredulously, he said, "You have a fever, Mandy." 

"I beg your pardon?!" she cried. 

"Thirty eight point four," he said, brandishing the scanner at her. 

"That is ridiculous, Ifan. I cannot get sick!" she yelled. "I am immune!" 

"Fever, chills, muscle aches… the exhaustion. Mandy, you cut yourself on the piece of glass a few days ago! You're sick!" 

"That is not possible, Ifan!" she yelled, raising her voice. Suddenly, the dryness in her throat along with the shout caused a tickle to raise in the back of her throat and she let out a few dry coughs. 

"And now you're coughing!" Ianto said. 

Miranda shook her head, not willing to believe it, but it was the only explanation. Her body felt wrong. She was exhausted and there was a dull ache spreading through her muscles. All she could think about was her bed. There was a stinging sensation in her throat. Normally comfortable in the Hub, she'd been chilled every since yesterday, occasionally shivering. Certainly, each of these could find their own explanation but Miranda couldn't deny the presence of fever. 

She dug deep into her memory. What had it felt like to be sick? She'd been sick before, of course, it had been part of her mortal life. She tried to remember but the only thing she could remember was her mother forcing a cup of bitter liquid down her throat. Had she felt like this? She couldn't remember. It was too long ago. She couldn't even remember the sound of her mother's voice. 

"I think you should lock me in an isolation cell," she said. 

"I don't think that's necessary, Mandy. You said yourself the disease isn't airborne," Ianto said. 

"That may change and we have no idea what my immortal physiology will do with this illness. An isolation cell. Now, Ifan," she said, and started walking towards the east stairs.


	17. Chapter 17

The rest of the team was staring at the CCTV screen. Laying on Jack's old camp bed, Miranda was curled on her side, shut away in the isolation cell. Ianto had brought some blankets and clothes from her rooms to keep her comfortable. 

"Evie can't get sick…" Fish gasped, watching Miranda cough into a handkerchief. 

"She's running a fever. She's congested. She's coughing. She said her throat hurt," Ianto said, in pure disbelief. "She's sick. It must have been when she cut her finger on that glass slide." 

"Is it all right to leave her in there by herself?" Gwen asked. 

"Mandy insisted," Ianto said, shaking his head. "She didn't even realise she was sick. She thought she was just overworked and tired. She came up with a reasonable explanation for all of her symptoms."  

"How long was it before the coma started in the others, Martha?" Jack asked. 

"Four days after the symptoms started. The staff infected with Brian Wilson's blood fell into comas within hours of each other," Martha said, shaking her head.  

Ianto shook his head too, "Mandy's immortal. Who knows how this will effect her? She might not fall into a coma at all. How are you feeling, Ethan?" 

"Fine," Donovan said. Everyone was staring at him. "No seriously, I really do feel fine. When'd she cut herself on that slide?" 

"Night before Cameron MacDonald showed up on the Plass," Ianto said. 

"Oh," Donovan said, absently. 

"What?" Jack asked. 

"Uhhh," Donovan said and then gave a nervous cough. "We've been working a lot of late nights…" 

"And you two haven't been shagging," Gwen supplied. 

Donovan didn't say anything, just shifted nervously. 

"What if we reset her?" Fish asked, eagerly changing the subject. 

"Reset?" Donovan asked, confused. "She's not a fucking computer, Joe." 

"No, but she's immortal," Fish said, rolling his eyes a bit. He mimed a gun with his finger, pointing it at his temple. 

"We could give it a try," Jack said. He turned to leave so he could get his Webley but Ianto grabbed his arm. 

"Jack, I don't think it's a good idea. She's sick. This is a completely unknown set of circumstances. We have no idea if she'll revive. What if, after she's dead, her body liquifies like the others," Ianto protested. "I don't think it's worth the risk." 

"I think we're all missing the point here," Gwen said. 

"What do you mean, Gwen?" Ianto asked. 

"I mean, what would make Miranda sick?" Gwen asked. She pointed her hand at the screen, feeling as if she was stating the obvious. 

"I see where Gwen's going with this," Donovan said. "She said she's seen hundreds, probably thousands of plagues and nothing's ever infected her before. She gets sick now?" 

"The illness could just be alien," Jack pointed out. 

"I don't think so," Donovan said, shaking his head. "I mean, think about it for a sec. What is it that keeps Miranda from getting sick? Have you guys ever studied what happens to her when she gets exposed to disease?" 

Angry, Ianto snapped, "We don't experiment on Miranda and Jack." 

"Take it easy, Ianto. I'm not talking about using them as fucking guinea pigs, I'm talking about what you guys see day in and day out. They get injured and you watch them heal, right? What? Two? Three days after I got here, a Weevil scratched her up pretty good. I watched those wounds heal. It was some sort of accelerated metabolism," Donovan pointed out. "What if the reason she doesn't get sick is the same? Some sort of advanced immunity? An alien disease wouldn't get at her any more than an old fashioned earth one." 

"We're just guessing," Jack said, shaking his head. "We keep working this. Will and I have reacted strangely to alien artefacts before. Remember those Nepanthian energy weapons? Who's to say there isn't an illness out there that can make us sick? Fish? Go home and get Henry. Bring him here. I want to talk to him. Martha? I know it seems like we've got the perfect source of samples now but I don't want to use Will. We don't know what effect her immortality will have on things. Keep processing everything from the patients at the hospital. Gwen, keep working on the CCTV with Ianto. Ethan? I've got some things I need you to read about her." 

Fish grabbed Jack's arm. He lowered his voice. "You're going to tell him about the Game? Evie didn't want that." 

"I know but he needs to be in possession of all the facts. We need everyone on the same page now, Fish. The point here is to teach him and he isn't going to learn anything if we keep him in the dark," Jack said. He pointed at the hallway that led to the garage. "Go get Henry." 

"I don't want him anywhere near this," Fish nearly snarled. 

"I need answers only an immortal of the Game can give me and I need someone I know Will can trust." He ordered, "Go. Get. Henry." 

Fish sighed and started towards the Hub garage. He sent a quick text to Henry, telling him to expect him home soon. He couldn't believe that Miranda was even sick but he couldn't deny what he'd seen with his own eyes. Fish didn't want Henry anywhere near the Hub and was a bit angry with Jack for asking him to bring Henry down rather than speaking with him on the phone. 

With a sigh, he parked his car and got out. He climbed the stairs and unlocked the door, thankfully avoiding Mrs. Foster, his nosy neighbor. The sooner he and Henry moved away from her the better. The idea of have a gay couple living across the hall was quite novel to her. She was more nosy than ever, constantly popping round with baked goods so she could snoop and asking intrusive and inappropriate questions. 

When Fish opened the door, he gasped. The flat was a completely disaster. Henry had emptied every one of the kitchen cupboards. Their contents were spread out all over the flat, covering every available surface. Fish's mismatched plates and glasses were everywhere. Every pot, every pan, and utensil was out on the counter, his coffee table and sofa. There were several bin liners open on the floor filled with all manner of things - chipped crockery and boxes of dry goods. Henry was on a step stool. He had on a pair of rubber gloves and was scouring the cupboard shelves. The smell of cleaning fluid was in the air. 

"Bugger all, Henry! What the bloody hell are you doing?" he cried. "Look at my flat!" 

Henry leaned out of the cupboard, quirking an annoyed eyebrow at his lover. For some reason, Fish still referred to the flat as 'his' instead of 'theirs'. Something which irritated Henry to no end. "I believe I live here too, Joe." 

"I didn't expect you to move in and wreck the place!" Fish said, waving his hand around. 

"I am planning on putting everything back. The cupboards are quite dusty, Joe, and most of your dry goods have expired and some have bugs in them," Henry said, patiently. He waved at the bin liners. "Much of your crockery is badly chipped and there is enough that you needn't hang on to the damaged items. It is only the two of us." 

Henry stepped down off of the step stool and waved at the hall cupboard. He removed his rubber gloves and dropped them on the counter. "I'm afraid I've also broken your hoover." 

"What?" Fish asked. "How?" 

"The bag was overly full and I neglected to check before I used it," Henry said, sheepishly. "I'm afraid I've burned out the motor. I was going to head down to the storage unit for mine." 

As Henry spoke, Fish winced. He actually couldn't remember the last time he'd changed the bag inside. He was always forgetting. 

"The hoover's not your fault, Henry, it's mine. I've burned out two like that." He stood in place, turning, surveying the chaos. "We don't have time to put all this back…" 

"Is something the matter, Joe?" Henry asked, wiping his hands. "Are you expecting a guest of whom I was not aware?" 

"We need to get to the Hub. Jack wants to talk to you," Fish said. He leaned over and tied up one of the bin liners. 

"To me? Whatever for?" Henry asked, surprised. 

"Evie's sick," Fish said, flatly. 

"Preposterous," Henry said with a laugh but it trailed off as he saw his lover's face. He shook his head. "Your Captain Harkness should find a better way of playing a practical joke." 

"I'm serious, Henry. She's running a fever. She's coughing and… well, she's sick!" Fish insisted. 

"Utter nonsense!" Henry cried. He moved some pans aside and sat down on the sofa so he could put on his shoes. "Fine, if you wish me to play along with this joke than I will do so…" 

Now Fish could see why Jack had wanted him to fetch Henry rather than talking with him. Henry didn't believe him! Fish spent the first few minutes of the drive to the Hub trying to convince Henry that his teacher was actually sick but eventually gave up. Henry was becoming quite cross with him and it wasn't worth starting a row. He'd see the proof with his own eyes soon enough. He pulled into the Hub's garage and parked. Before Henry could get out of the car, Fish put his hand on his arm to stop him.

"Henry, promise me you'll be careful. If this thing got Evie, it could get you too," Fish said, afraid. 

"I'm certain I will be fine, Joe," Henry said with impatience. He was rolling his eyes and shaking his head. 

Henry followed Fish into Hub, down the long hallway from the garage. The moment the two men emerged, Jack strode across and held out his hand. 

"Henry, good to see you again," Jack said as Henry shook his hand. 

"Captain," Henry said. 

"He doesn't believe me, Jack," Fish said. 

"I figured. It's fine, Fish. Follow me, Henry," Jack said. 

Henry followed Jack down the east stairs towards the isolation cell. "Captain-"

"Jack."

"Jack, I do not understand what joke this is that you and Joe…" Henry trailed off as he caught sight of Miranda. She was laying in the cell, covered in a blanket, asleep. Henry's eyes flicked to the monitors but the most startling information wasn't what was displayed on the screens. It was in Miranda's own face. Having lived in an age before modern medicine, Henry knew sickness when he saw it. She was sweating. Her pale complexion was waxy but her cheeks were flushed with fever. This was no joke at all! Fish had been telling him the truth! _Impossible!_ Henry felt the colour fading from his own cheeks. 

"God in Heaven!" he cried. 

"Shhh, she's asleep," Jack said, waving his hand at him. "She's sick, Henry, and we don't know why. There are some trust issues between Will and I when it comes to this Game of yours. I need you to be straight with me here. Will says you people can't get sick but I need to know the truth. Is there anything that can infect your kind? Anything at all?"

In an emphatic whisper, Henry said, fearfully backing away from the glass, "NO! Our kind are immune to every illness! I have lived through the Black Death! The Sweating Sickness! Epidemics of small pox and measles! Spanish influenza! Malaria, cholera and typhus! HIV! This is _NOT_ possible!" 

"It's safe, Henry," Jack said, raising a calming hand. "The cell is sealed and on its own ventilation. The illness isn't airborne. It's blood borne." 

"How was she infected?" Henry asked, not believing he was asking such a question.  

"A slide broke. She cut her finger on the glass," Jack said, softly.  

"You must keep her condition secret. None of our kind can know she is incapacitated. The others… the Watchers… no one can know that there is an illness to which we are vulnerable." Henry tilted his head. "Have you tried killing her?" 

"Not yet," Jack said. "We've no idea what is going on here. We're afraid-"

"That if you kill her, she may not revive," Henry finished. "If the disease kills her, she may not revive either. How high is her fever?" 

"Thirty nine point five." 

Henry furrowed his brow.

"One hundred and three point one," Jack supplied. 

Henry's eyes went wide. "Is she lucid?" 

"She's sleeping a lot but when she's awake, she is," Jack said, leading Henry back into the main Hub. "C'mon, I don't want to wake her up." 

"I'm sorry I cannot help you," Henry said, sadly. "Are you safe? Mao-Lin informed me that your immortality is different than ours." 

"We don't know," Jack said, shaking his head.

"Who is taking care of her?" Henry asked. 

"I am," Jack said. "Even though we don't know if I can get sick or not. It's the least risky." 

"I shall take over her care," Henry said, immediately. 

"I can't ask you to do that, Henry-"

Henry interrupted, "I am not asking, Jack-"

"-because Fish would kill me," Jack said, talking over him. 

Henry drew himself up. "I believe Torchwood was formed by the Crown, Captain Harkness. As the acknowledged son of King Henry VIII-"

"Don't play that card with me, Henry," Jack said, pointing his finger in Henry's face. "You want to take care of her? You clear it with Fish and I'll let you." 

Henry's face fell and took on a nervous sort of panicked look. 

"Yeah, I thought so," Jack said. He pressed his lips together into a thin line. "Look, I really don't have a problem with you chipping in. I'm down an immortal team member and you did good last time. But I don't want to hear it from your boyfriend."


	18. Chapter 18

Henry stretched a bit as he came up the east stairs. Miranda thought his care unnecessary and had been quite surly yesterday when the Duke had begun seeing to her care. Well, she was still surly today but once she'd figured out that Henry wasn't going anywhere, she'd relented a bit. Henry found the whole thing a little ironic. Miranda had met Henry while she was working as a servant in his half sister's household and now that original role was a bit reversed. When lunchtime had approached, he'd gone upstairs to fetch Miranda something to eat even though she had no appetite. He was disappointed when he found nothing but old pizza and take away in the Hub kitchen. 

"May I get something for you, my lord?" Ianto asked, politely.  

"This regular use of Mao-Lin's formality is unnecessary, Ianto," he said. Henry gave Ianto a raised eyebrow that was answered only with an embarrassed smile. "Please, my friend, it's Henry."  

For no reason that Ianto could understand, Henry had tried his hardest to befriend him since arriving in Cardiff. Barely two days after Henry had arrived, Ianto's mobile had rang. He'd thought the Duke was looking for Fish but Henry had wanted to speak to him. The two of them had gone out for a friendly lunch and there'd been quite a few lunches and drinks since then. Ianto liked the Duke. He was a man of unique perspective and wry humour but even though their friendship was growing, Ianto sometimes found it difficult to relax around him.

"Sorry, calling you Henry feels a bit wrong to me," Ianto finally confided with a small laugh. His ears turned a bit pink. "I did a report on you in secondary."

"I imagine I have been the subject of a certain amount of fascination over the centuries. The truth is far less interesting," Henry said, rolling his eyes a bit. 

Ianto let out a loud laugh at that. "Yes, the idea that you're not actually King Henry VIII's son at all and are, in fact, a nearly five hundred year old immortal is far less interesting." 

Henry rolled his eyes again. Like Miranda, Henry was tight lipped about his past but for different reasons. He despised his royal upbringing. Oh, he'd been grateful for the privilege and education he'd received but all his life his father had steered him down a path that was not of his own choosing. When Henry had become immortal, he'd thought that he was finally free to escape it all but his father's fame still followed Henry around like a dark cloud. Henry had long suspected it was not his noble upbringing that made Ianto uncomfortable but that it was, as usual, his father's ghost following him about and he was correct. Ianto had used Henry's title or some honorific a number of times and Henry could tell it was just a simple slip of the tongue but he didn't want it to become a habit as it was with Miranda. 

One day, Ianto would die his first death and join the Game, becoming a student of Miranda's; the same as Henry. Miranda treated all her students as a sort of adopted family with her as the matriarch. Henry knew his attempts at friendship confused the Welshman but he knew what Ianto did not. This man would become his brother. He was doing his best to welcome Ianto into the fold. It might be a little premature but Henry liked Ianto. He very much wanted for them to be friends. 

"Is there anything suitable for Mao-Lin to eat?" Henry asked, changing the subject. 

Ianto reached up and took down a tin of soup from one of the cupboards. "Her soda is in the refrigerator drawer." 

Henry sighed at the tinned soup. Did no one at Torchwood eat a healthy diet? He would have to cook something himself for her when he got home. "This processed swill is most unhealthy." 

"We eat on the go a lot. There may be something more in her rooms downstairs," he replied, sidestepping the subject. He didn't want to remind Henry that the team really didn't need to worry about saturated fat or salt. None of them would live long enough for it to be a problem. 

To Ianto's surprise, Henry brought it himself. "A healthy diet isn't just about living a long life, my friend. What you eat now will effect your overall health. It may not seem so, but a nutritious diet will help you now." 

Miranda would have something better in her rooms but to get to the north stairs, Henry would have to pass right behind his extremely angry lover. He finished arranging the items on the tray and then cast a nervous glance at the main Hub where Fish was sitting. 

"She said she's not hungry. She may not eat much, if at all." He pushed the tin of soup towards Ianto who opened the tin and tipped the contents into a bowl. He tossed it into the microwave and set it to heat. 

"We are still not speaking," Henry said, offhandedly, gazing off in Fish's direction. 

Ianto took the statement as an invitation to the subject. Gently, he said to his friend, "You could have been more diplomatic, yesterday." 

Henry sighed. He knew he'd behaved poorly. He'd barked at Fish and embarrassed him in front of his colleagues but had, as of yet, been unable to swallow his pride to apologise. "A weakness of mine. I was taught the best way to achieve your goals was to command… to lead…" 

"A relationship isn't about following or leading, though I'm sure you know that," Ianto said, gently. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the countertop. "He loves you and he's worried about you. I'm sure you worry about him."

Henry nodded towards Donovan. "The American from Men in Black, I take it?" 

Ianto nodded. 

"I love Joe and I respect his choices. I wish he would respect the choice I have made to endanger myself to care for my teacher - a woman to whom I owe my life. When Men in Black first approached him with their offer, I wanted to throw myself on my knees and beg him to accept it… but I did not. It is his choice to be here, among the dangers of Torchwood." Henry shook his head. It wounded Henry that Fish could not extend the same respect to his own choice. 

"I wish Jack saw it like that," Ianto said with a sigh. 

"You misunderstand me, Ianto. Just because I respect Joe's choice does not mean it does not greatly wound me nor does it mean I understand it." Henry looked at Fish sadly. Ianto saw the grief there. It was identical to a look he often saw on Jack's face when he thought Ianto wasn't looking. "It disappoints me that he chooses a path that will lead him to an early grave. I know I will lose him in any event but that I will lose him after so short a time together… that our love is not enough to sway his choice…" 

Henry trailed off as his voice broke. He shook his head. He cleared his throat. "Forgive me, if I've embarrassed you." 

"You're not embarrassing me, Henry," Ianto said, softly. "Actually, it's the first time I've heard someone speak honestly about it from an immortal point of view. Jack doesn't like to talk about it." 

"I would not use my opinions in place of Jack's. I do not know him well enough to speak to his mindset," Henry said, continuing to arrange Miranda's tray. He was trying to regain control over his own emotions in the nervous movement. 

"If you'd like to hear it, Henry, I'll give you my opinion," Ianto said, tilting his head. 

Henry nodded, curious. 

"I could give you a long speech about wanting to feel like my life matters or that I'm making a difference in the world but that would be mostly bollocks. The truth of it is that I was a bloke who didn't belong anywhere. Some people don't think that's important, that you should make your own way in the world and I guess that's true for some but not for me and I don't think it's true for Fish either. All I wanted was to get out of my father's house and when I finally ran all the way to London, things didn't feel right there either. I had a good job, a gorgeous girlfriend and it still felt… off. Sometimes it's not the place - it's the man. Fish once told me that he never really minded moving about because he never really felt at home anywhere. You're a big part of what makes him feel home, Henry, but so is Torchwood. The reason he stays here is because we help him feel at home. We're part of his niche in the world, his place…" 

Ianto nodded at Fish's back. "He knows he'll never feel right anywhere else. He doesn't know how to let go of Torchwood. I figured out a long time ago that Torchwood isn't something you can ever really let go of. Torchwood is something are, not something you do. It's not that you're not enough or what you have doesn't mean the world to him, because it does. I can tell you right now that deciding to stay home with his family is tearing him up inside. Not a day goes by when he doesn't worry about what his death is going to do to you." 

Henry could tell Ianto was speaking from the heart, confiding his own inner turmoil and experiences. He was grateful for the raw honesty and took Ianto's words to heart as he carefully considered what he was about to do. Very slowly, Henry asked, "May I ask you something, Ianto?" 

"Sure," Ianto said. 

"What is your opinion of immortality?" 

"Jack's? Or yours and Mandy's?" 

"Either… or both." 

Ianto's response was a question. "Jack always says that when he dies that there's nothing. Is it the same for you?" 

"I know of nothing until I revive," Henry said. It wasn't the first time someone had asked him that question but what came next _was_ a first for him. 

"There are two ways to look at that - that you experience nothing because you're not actually dead or that you experience nothing because there actually _is_ nothing," Ianto said, shrugging. "I don't like the deductive assumption that if there isn't an afterlife, then there isn't a god, and that all that must mean life is random and meaningless. Why does it have to be all or nothing? I don't know if there's anything after this life but if there isn't, it doesn't mean that there isn't some greater design to the universe. When I first found out about the Game, I thought it had this feeling of… something more - like destiny or fate or God's plan or whatever you want to call it. What happened to Jack was nothing more than an accident, a roll of the dice." 

At first, Henry had thought Ianto's tone was pity but as he'd continued to speak Henry recognised it for what it was… fear. "Some people look at it as a gift." 

Ianto blanched a little. "Yes, they do but I think, deep down, everyone knows it's a curse. Look at every fictional immortal creature…" Ianto started counting off points on his fingers. "…stake through the heart… burning… sunlight… silver bullet… there's always a way to kill them." 

He didn't look up as he said, his voice a bit rough, "I'm not afraid to die. What scares me about dying is that 'death by Torchwood' isn't usually… natural." Ianto shivered as he thought about Suzie and Owen. "Do I want more time with Jack? Of course, but I want a normal life. I want to be old and grey and die in his arms after we've had a long and full life together."

His voice dropped, lowering, "I know that Torchwood won't give me that but I'd rather have just a few years of brilliance with Jack and Torchwood than a long life without either. I've done more living since I've been here than I'd done my whole life. Life is just so much more when you know there's an end and it's even more so when you know that end is breathing down your neck." 

Henry reached out and put his hand on Ianto's arm, squeezing it gently. Ianto had no idea that the gesture was one of pity.


	19. Chapter 19

Martha rubbed at her eyes, lifting her head as she heard the crockery on Henry's tray clinking. She checked her watch. _Lunch time already?_ She heaved out a deep sigh. She took the slide off the microscope and dumped it into the biohazard bin. After tossing her gloves, she washed her hands. She'd been staining samples all morning, trying to recreate the 'poorly stained sample' where the strange bacteria was noted on Jake Oliver's blood smear. So far, she'd had no luck. Before she went downstairs for a new bin, she'd get herself some coffee. She picked up the mug to go fill it but Ianto must have been by and filled it at some point. _Bless him…_

Gwen was walking down the autopsy bay stairs carrying a small bag. "Fuel for the tireless soldier. Ianto went to that new sandwich shop." She peered into the bag. "I think yours is skip jack." 

Martha chuckled a bit. "I don't know how he always knows what I'm in the mood for. Boardroom?" 

"It's a gift of his. He knew I wanted cheese today," Gwen said, walking side by side with Martha, smiling. They sat down at the boardroom table and set out their food. Gwen handed Martha a bag of crisps. 

"So how was the honeymoon? Where did you go again?" Gwen asked.  

"Cassis," Martha said with a smile. "Jack and Ianto recommended it. It was beautiful." 

"We were all sorry we couldn't make the wedding," Gwen apologised. "Miranda was beside herself when that nasty bit with the alien parasite ruined your honeymoon." 

"She said." Martha shook her head. "It was fine, really. We only lost one day." 

"So is it Doctor Smith now?" Gwen laughed. 

Martha laughed. "No, still Jones, thank you very much, Gwen _Cooper._ " 

The two of them dissolved into a fit of giggles. 

"I wonder if Rhys and I should think about Cassis." 

"Oh you should go! It was a bit pricey but worth it." Martha waved over her shoulder. "It's important to get away from all this once in a while. Remind yourself there's a life outside." 

"Don't let it drift, Jack's always saying," Gwen said, shaking her head. "So, are you and Mickey thinking about kids yet?"

Martha waved her hand. "Oh, God, no. It's always the next question after you get married isn't it?" 

"Rhys is on me about it all the time," Gwen groaned. She waved around the room. "I don't know what I'd do having a baby with all this." 

Martha chewed at her sandwich, thoughtful. She heard the truth behind Gwen's light tone. Seriously, she said, "You'd do the same thing everyone else does. You'd do your best. Don't let all this hold you back, Gwen. I think you and Rhys'd be brilliant." 

Gwen coloured and returned to her lunch. Maybe Martha was right, she was letting it drift. At Torchwood, they fought so that people could survive, could live their every day lives but what about Torchwood themselves? What about what Rhys wanted for his life… _their_ life? She was about to say something when Jack jogged into the room. 

"Fish's got something guys," he said and then darted back out. 

Martha and Gwen both dropped their sandwiches onto the table and bolted after him, wiping their mouths and hands as they went. Everyone was gathered around Fish's workstation, peering at the screen. To Gwen's surprise, it wasn't Fish sitting there, it was Ethan Donovan. 

"Ethan found it so I'm going to let him do the honours," Fish said, clapping Donovan on the shoulder. He let out a small laugh. "They grow up so fast…" 

A small snigger rippled through the Torchwood team. 

"Yeah, so you all know I've been working with Joe to figure out which one of the Wilsons is the patient zero. Now, from that Scottish doctor at the hospital, we know that Barbara Wilson was a good mom and a good mom like her would've had everything at home she needed in case her kids got sick. But, on a long shot, I checked her credit card receipts and that was when I found this," Donovan said. He tapped a key sequence and an image came up. "This is Barbara Wilson at a pharmacy buying cough drops. This would be the point that the adults got sick. You don't give your kids cough drops." 

"This made me assume that her or her husband is our actual patient zero," Fish said. "I ran with that and started following them on the camera system, backwards." 

"But," Ethan said, tilting his head, "Joe doesn't have kids. So on a hunch, while Joe was was checking the parents, I looked at the kids cos every parent knows that the first people in the house to get sick-"

"Are the kids," Jack supplied. 

"Bingo," Ethan said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Jack. "The kids get sick, infect their siblings and then before you know it Mom and Dad are sick too. So, I followed the oldest, Sandra, around on the CCTV. Nothing much there, school, piano lessons and a few sports but here," Donovan said, pointing at the calendar, "she missed her piano lesson and her soccer… football practice, sorry." 

"That's when Ethan brought it to my attention so we stopped investigating the adults and focused in on the kids and that's when we found this… or rather when Ethan found this," Fish said, pointing at the screen. 

Donovan started to play the video footage. "It's a playground Barbara Wilson brought Stephanie regularly. This the day before she bought the cough drops and Sandra started missing her activities. Watch." 

He clicked and the video began to play. Stephanie was climbing on the bars for a bit and then, bored with them, she began running back and forth around the pitch, pretending to be an airplane. Her arms were stretched out from her sides and she was gleefully running back and forth. 

"And… there!" Donovan said freezing the image. "That flash by the ground is a rift spike."

Jack asked, annoyed, "Why didn't we investigate?"

"We did," Fish said. He brought up another screen with the readout for that day. "You and Ianto show up at this playground in about fifteen minutes." 

Ianto swore under his breath in Welsh. "I remember this. We scoured that park. We didn't find anything."

"And this is why," Donovan said with a sad sigh. He clicked and the video footage advanced.

Stephanie saw the flash of light and, curious, went to investigate. They all watched as she picked up a circular pane of glass. Her mother noticed immediately, rushing over to her and ripping it out of her hands. The clear pane smashed on the ground. After dragging her daughter a small ways away, she produced a bunch of hand wipes and sanitizer, squirting it onto her daughter's fingers. So vigorous was Barbara Wilson's scolding that Stephanie began to wail and tried to rip herself out of her mother's grasp. The poor girl tried to run off but slipped and fell, cutting her leg on the broken glass and skinning her knees. 

"It's like that fucking reliquary all over again," Fish muttered under his breath.

"What a senseless tragedy," Henry said, softly. 

Fish turned to Ianto and said, "You and Jack would have found nothing but bits of broken glass. A bunch of kids were trampling the pieces." 

"Bloody well lucky they didn't infect themselves!" Gwen exclaimed. 

"Ethan? Can you enhance that image any?" Jack asked. "I want to see what she picked up. It didn't look mauve."

"It just looked like a clear piece of glass," Martha said.  

"There's a better angle for that, Jack," he said. "I used this one just because it gave a wider picture." 

Donovan began clicking and tapping out on the keyboard and a closer angle of Stephanie Wilson came into view. He stood up so that Fish could sit down at the workstation. Fish's more expert hand quickly enlarged and enhanced the video still. There was an image etched into the glass but it was too pixelated to really be clear. "That's as clear as it's going to get Jack." 

Jack leaned in. He had a strange look on his face - recognition. "Can you have the computer extrapolate?" 

"That program isn't very good, Jack," Fish warned. 

"It's a hunch, Fish," Jack said. "All I need it to do is clear it up a little. That symbol looks pentagonal." 

Fish put the image through the correct program. It only took a few minutes for it to process the image. Jack tilted his head and squinted at the screen. The symbol still wasn't clear but it was, roughly, pentagonal. Jack sighed.  

"That's what I was afraid of," Jack said, shaking his head. Everyone turned and looked at him. 

"Well?" Gwen asked, loudly. "What is it, Jack?!"

Jack threw a nervous glance at Donovan. "It's the corporate symbol for a pharmaceutical and biotechnologies group from the fifty first century. It was their cover for the manufacture of illegal weapons." 

Donovan gaped at Jack. "How the fuck do you know that?" 

Jack ignored him. "We had a whistleblower. They were shut down but the worst stuff was never found - the stuff that would have meant special charges."

"Special charges?" Donovan asked. 

"The fifty first century equivalent of war crimes," Jack said, trying to sound nonchalant. He rolled his eyes a bit. "'Crimes against the spirit of the Empire'. It carried the death penalty."

"There's still a death penalty in the fifty first century?" Donovan asked, surprised. 

Jack ignored the question. "The Time Agency got involved because they thought that some of the tech had been disposed of by sending it back in time." 

Gwen groaned. "Like a dealer flushing his stash during a drugs bust!" 

"And now it's on our front door," Ianto said, angry. 

"What kind of weapons did they make, Jack?" Martha asked. If it meant the death penalty, she almost didn't want to know. 

"All kinds of biological weapons. The worst were genetically engineered illnesses but their speciality was… was weaponised nanotechnology…" Jack said, trailing off. The realisation dawned on him slowly and then the lightbulb went on over his head. He grinned and turned to Gwen. "Haha! You had it right all along, Gwen! We should have looked at why _Will_ is sick! She's not sick because of a disease, she's sick because a million microscopic machines are attacking her! She's been infected with nanopaths!" 

"That's why no one is responding to any treatments. Medications are meant to attack organisms, not machines!" Martha cried. "What do we do, Jack?"

"Normally, a master control unit would be able to reprogram the nanopaths but we don't have one," Jack said, frustrated. 

"Like nanogens," Martha said. 

Jack shook his head. "Nanogens are different." 

"We could reprogram one by hand and then use it to reprogram the others," Fish said. 

"We can't even isolate them in any of the samples or see them under the microscope. If we can't even see them, how can we manage to reprogram one?" Martha lamented. 

Jack shook his head. "Nanopaths doesn't work that way. They're not as sophisticated as nanogens."

"How do you know it's nano _paths_ we've got and not nano _gens_?" Donovan asked. 

"Exactly what Martha said, we can't isolate them. Nanogens are meant to cure illness or treat injury. They communicate with each other. They adapt. They change. Nanopaths are invasive and elusive. They're intended as weapons and a weapon you can't see, that you can't isolate is more powerful. Nanopaths don't communicate with each other for safety. There are other precautions to make sure they don't get out of control. Biological nanotechnology outside of the medical field is illegal, especially weaponisation like this. Even medically restricted nanocells can easily get out of hand. They can wipe out whole planets - cause mass genocide…" _Turn people into crazed mummy seeking gas mask wearing zombies…_  

"Why would they care about that? They're already making illegal weapons that can get them the death penalty," Donovan said. 

Jack shook his head. "Some terrorist group trying to make its own nuclear weapon is still going to handle plutonium in a radiation suit." 

"Perhaps something could be built to reprogram these nanopaths?" Henry asked. 

"Nanotechnology is big money. It's highly patented. Usually each cell is proprietary to each company and there are lots of safeguards to keep someone from just randomly reprogramming them. It would take too long to bypass all that corporate security."

"Good to know human nature never changes," Donovan said, rolling his eyes.   

"Doesn't seem like much of a plague," Martha said. "I mean, it's a good thing but it's not infecting anyone else. It's not airborne. It's just sitting in the host until they die."

"Well when…" Jack trailed off as his brain began to connect the dots. "They're not carrying out instructions, they're just multiplying! It's the only thing they know how to do in a biological host when they aren't programmed. They're taking the only available raw materials they can - the cells of the people they've infected - to make more of themselves. They're not stopping until whatever material they need is gone so the bodies are liquifying!"

"Like some sort of bizarre man-made cancer," Donovan said. "Why didn't that snazzy scanner pick this up?"

"That scanner's thirty third century. Nanotechnology wasn't common in medical usage for another few centuries after that," Jack said. "It wouldn't have known what to make of them and I said that thing was a piece of junk."

Over the next few minutes, the team tossed around a few ideas about how to isolate one of the nano-paths so they could learn more. Henry, who'd been largely silent during this exchange, listened but eventually his sixteenth century brain began to throb. 

"Excuse me," he said, knocking on Fish's desk. "While all of this is quite fascinating, isn't a simpler solution obvious?"

They all looked at Henry, confused. Henry had to raise an eyebrow. 

"I'm certain that maintaining a specimen of this nanopath would be educational but isn't the goal to save these people's lives? Why not simply find a way to disable them? Would not electrocuting Mao-Lin with enough current short circuit them?" 

"That'd kill her!" Martha exclaimed. 

"Doctor Jones, Mao-Lin is immortal. Unless the electric current blows off her head, she will revive," Henry said, patiently. 

"That might work for Evie but it won't work for the others," Fish said, not looking at his lover. 

"No! It will work!" Jack said. 

"What? Jack, you can't be serious! We can't go electrocuting people!" Gwen shouted. 

"No, Gwen! Not an electric shock, an EMP! We create a pulse and it fries the nanopaths! They used one for the Sagittarius Colony Collapse. It sent the whole colony into the Stone Age but it saved millions," Jack said. He turned, kissing Henry full on the mouth. "Haha! You're a genius, Henry!" 

Henry stepped back, surprised. Their row might still be unresolved but Fish snapped, "Oi! Hands off, Harkness!" 

"What's an EMP?" Gwen asked. 

"Jack is referring to an extremely strong burst of electromagnetic energy that causes damage to electronic equipment. It occurs along with a nuclear explosion," Henry supplied. He ignored the fact that everyone was gawking at him and said, "And I'll ask you not to do that again, Captain." 

"Hey, don't hate," Jack said, laughing. "You know, maybe the four of us-"

"Shall I search the archives, sir?" Ianto interrupted very loudly. 

Jack pouted but said, "I remember something coming through at some point. I'll help you!"


	20. Chapter 20

Excited to the point of being almost manic, Jack bolted down the east stairs with Ianto on his heels. He was barely keeping up with Jack who kept insisting he knew where he was going. After turning several corners, Jack punched in his code at one of the storage room doors.  

"It's here," Jack said, animated. "Filed it myself back in seventy six…"

Ianto turned the light on and the two of them headed to the back of the room past the rows of shelves. Jack jogged ahead of Ianto, leaving him several paces behind.

"Ha, ha, I knew it!" Jack exclaimed, triumphant. 

"Jack…" Ianto trailed off as he saw the shelf Jack was standing in front of. 

Ianto had made it his mission to make the archives more orderly and he'd been through this room already. His nearly eidetic memory meant that he knew this shelf looked wrong. He quickly looked at all the tags and then the tag on the item in Jack's hands. They were correct but he pointed at the item on the end of the shelf and said, angry, "This is misfiled!" 

"Don't worry about it, Ianto. I know where everything is," Jack said, turning the EMP device in his hands. It looked like a piece of exercise equipment, a kettlebell. Actually, it looked more like a cone with a handle. Jack was so focused on the piece of equipment that he couldn't see how his lover was glaring at him. 

"Jack…"

"C'mon, let's get this to Fish," Jack said, still staring at the item. 

"Jack!" Ianto barked and Jack's head snapped up. Ianto was giving him 'The Frown' and it was a look that Jack Harkness knew not to ignore nor take lightly. He put the kettlebell down on the shelf and did his best to look thoroughly remorseful. He'd done something wrong. He had zero clue as to what it was but he'd seriously fucked something up in order to earn that look. 

Ianto crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at Jack. "This archive is absolutely massive and it is nothing short of a complete disaster. Only you, Mandy and I can manoeuver it. And that is not how it should be." Ianto waved his arm at the room behind him. "This place is supposed to be useful. It's supposed to help us. No one can find a bloody thing when the filing system is 'Jack left this on some random shelf' or 'Jack thinks he remembers where he put that back in 1964!'"

"Ianto-"

"No!" Ianto snapped, waving his arm again at the room. "This is my life's work, Jack! Do you hear me? I spend every free working minute making this place orderly!" He slammed the flat of his palm down on the shelf. "I've been through this room already! It's already been ordered and cataloged and integrated into the filing system!"

He started frantically moving from shelf to shelf, checking the tags. He found a few more items that didn't belong. "Jack! You can't just throw things where you bloody well please!" 

"I can't understand that alpha-numeric system you invented, Ianto," Jack whinged. "It doesn't make any sense to me!" 

"Then at least stop cocking it up and let me do the filing!" Ianto shouted, his face red with anger. "At least Mandy makes an effort!"

"Hey! I make an effort!" Jack yelled back, defensive. 

Ianto pointed at one of the misfiled items. "That's making an effort? How many other rooms have random artefacts in them, Jack?" 

"Maybe if you stopped being so anal-"

It was absolutely _the_ wrong thing for him to say. 

Ianto shouted, "Well maybe if I wasn't always fighting an uphill battle against Hurricane Harkness!"

The two of them continued to yell back and forth at each other, becoming more angry and loud with each turn. Neither man knew how it happened but suddenly, Jack was pressed flush up against the shelves, Ianto kissing him passionately. It didn't matter how it had happened. Like so many other things in their lives, they just went with it. 

"You know, braces _and_ a belt is a breach of fashion etiquette…" Ianto teased as he fumbled with Jack's belt buckle.  

"Why would I need to know that when I have you to tell me?" Jack quipped back with an evil grin. 

He hooked his thumbs under his braces, letting them dangle at his sides but the minute Ianto had unfastened his belt and trousers, they fell to the floor. The fifty first century pheromones hit Ianto full force. The scent actually made his knees weaken. _It should be illegal for someone to smell so good…_ Ianto wanted more. His mouth started to water as he started to sink to his knees, but Jack grabbed him under his arms. Ianto glared at him. 

"Together," he said. 

Ianto smiled and his fingers dove for his own belt. Once his own trousers and pants were down around his ankles, Jack pulled him in close. He wrapped a large calloused hand around their cocks, squeezing them together and Ianto let out a shout that echoed through the room. He gripped the edge of the shelf behind Jack as he felt his knees nearly give way. 

"Fuck, Jack…" he gasped. 

"Jones, Ianto Jones, what you do to me," Jack whispered, sucking on his earlobe. 

Jack twisted his wrist slightly, just the way he knew Ianto liked. The metal shelf behind him vibrated as Ianto gripped it tighter, his arms trembling. After the flirting over Suzie's drawer and that first night, Jack hadn't been able to get enough of Ianto Jones. The archives had been their next encounter. Jack had cornered Ianto somewhere down here while he was filing. He'd snuck up behind him and pressed him into a shelf, jerking him off from behind. It had been so hot watching Ianto come undone in that suit. It hadn't been mutual like this but Ianto had been more than willing to reciprocate afterwards. Once his legs had recovered enough to support his weight anyway. 

The archives had become one of their favourite mid-day excursions - rift permitting. Back then, Ianto had been a bit shy - tentative in his first same-sex relationship but not now. He reached down between them, joining his hand to Jack's, taking control of the situation. He panted into Jack's mouth as they kissed, forcing their join hands to tug at their erections harder and faster. They rolled, switching their positions and Ianto now had the shelves digging into his back. 

"C'mon, Jack," Ianto hissed in his ear. He created a ring of hard pressure with his thumb and forefinger and twisted. Jack's head flew back and his eyes slammed shut. 

"So good," Jack gasped, clutching his lover to him. 

His Welshman was exciting and spontaneous but with layers of subtlety. Even something as simple as quick make-up sex had a depth to it. This may be a quick mid-day wank in the archives like the old days, but Jack could still feel the intimacy. Ianto's nose was nuzzling his neck. His fingers were fisted in the back of Jack's shirt but his thumb was rubbing back and forth across the cloth. Even Ianto's thighs were angled slightly forward, pressing into his. The subtleties were a hallmark of their relationship and Ianto Jones had given Jack a new appreciation for the little things. It was the little things that made love gush from Jack's heart. He shivered as he felt Ianto's lips ghost against his neck. 

Ianto smiled. He loved making Jack Harkness come undone. Sometimes, it still surprised him that he could. Jack may have him pinned against the shelves, but Ianto was the one in control here. The shift was almost imperceptible and anyone watching them wouldn't notice it. It was in the set of Jack's shoulders, the way he was relaxing into Ianto's arms. The trust from Jack's surrender of control always made Ianto feel loved and love Jack in return. He could feel Jack's shoulder trembling, he was close. Ianto brought his forefinger up and ran it along the slit of Jack's cock, pushing into it slightly. 

"IANTO!" Jack screamed. His cock fountained come up onto their joined hands. It was hot and thick, clinging to Ianto's fingers. No sooner had the second spurt flown up through the air than Ianto's own release began. Forgetting the metal shelf behind him, his head flew back, banging against it. 

"AH!" he screamed with his release. Spasming, his cock spurted up, the added come mixing and combining with Jacks. The two mingling together, now enough to begin dripping onto the concrete floor beneath them. Ianto let go of Jack, leaning on the shelf behind him to support his wobbly knees. Jack gripped one of the shelves behind Ianto, trying to do the same. Panting, he rested his forehead on Ianto's shoulder. He reached up, running his fingers through Ianto's hair. 

"You're going to have a goose egg later."

"I'll get an ice pack from Mandy," he replied. 

He swallowed, his throat dry. "I'm sorry. I'll try to remember everything I misfiled and leave them all in your office. I won't file anymore." 

"Well if that was all I needed to get you to agree…" Ianto teased. He chuckled a bit and then forced his head up, kissing Jack's ear. He whispered in it, "I'm sorry, I yelled. I love you, Jack."

"I love you too," Jack said, softly. 

The kiss they shared was soft and slow. Catching stolen moments was something Torchwood had taught them. They used relativity to its fullest, trying to extend each second to its breaking point. They stood there for a few minutes, shutting out the world, trying to make those minutes feel like hours. They didn't think. There were no thoughts of joy or sadness nor grief or contentment running through their minds. There was no future or past. They existing only with each other. They were precious moments, tender and fragile… and over all too quickly. The kiss broke slowly, their lips reluctant to leave the other's. 

Jack tugged his handkerchief from his pocket. After he'd wiped his hand, he refastened his trousers while he walked back to their original objective. "Let's get cleaned up and get this to Fish."


	21. Chapter 21

It took Jack and Ianto little over an hour to locate the proper piece of tech. If it hadn't been for the small row over Jack's misfiling and the quick hand job to make up for it, it would have been closer to half an hour. To Fish, it looked like a very small kettlebell, but more angular - like a cone with a handle really. Other than some lights along the handle, there was nothing else adorning the outside. Jack set it down on top of Fish's worktable with a grim expression on his face. Fish could smell the sex wafting down off of him and eyed the device, hoping Jack had washed his hands thoroughly before handling it.  

"I knew it was too good to be true. It's broken," Jack said with a sigh. 

"You tried to set it off in the Hub?!" Fish shouted. He tried to bat Jack's hands away from the device. "Are you mad?! Do you know how much equipment you could've fried, Jack!?" 

"As if! I just tried to turn it on," Jack said. He twisted the handle towards Fish. "See? No lights." 

"Well, fat lot of good that's going to do us," Fish said, sitting down. "Where's the file that went with this thing?"

"Ianto's looking but I don't think we have any documents," Jack said, tapping the top. 

"C'mere, gorgeous, let's dance," Fish said as he examined the outer casing. Along the flat base, he saw a small notch. He slipped his tool into it and twisted his wrist. Nothing. 

"Do you mind getting Henry for me, Jack?" he asked, still peering into the device.

"Why?" 

"I need someone with steady hands to help me," Fish said. 

"I can help you, Fish," Jack said, stepping forward. 

Fish waved him away. "Not with those sausages you're not. Henry's fingers are slimmer. Just tell him I need him to help me with the tech." 

Jack backed away and went off in search of Fish's lover. Things were still unsettled between them and Fish hated it. This definitely counted as their first major row as a couple. There'd been a few raised voices and a few disagreements while Fish had been in Vancouver and a few more since Henry had moved to Cardiff but they were nothing compared to this. 

Yesterday, Henry had walked straight over to him and, in the commanding tone that Fish hated so much, declared that he was going to be seeing to Miranda's care. Before Fish could even get a word in edgewise, Henry had turned on his heel and headed for the east stairs. Fish had gone after him, grabbing his arm and forcing Henry to face him. The disagreement had begun as a few angry whispers but then exploded into shouting with Fish storming off in one direction and Henry in the other while the rest of the team had looked on awkwardly. 

Thus had begun the silence. Neither of them had spoken with each other the rest of the day nor after they'd gone home. The two of them had gotten ready for bed, awkwardly moving around each other in the small flat. Fish had been so angry, he'd gone to sleep on the sofa. Henry, equally angry, had slammed the bedroom door. That morning, the two of them had continued their stony silence. As always, Henry had prepared breakfast and Fish had cleaned up but they hadn't said a single word to each other and they hadn't all the way to the Hub. 

For Henry, the silence seemed angry but for Fish it had become awkward. Having slept and calmed down, Fish was beginning to feel a bit foolish. Again, he was realising that his greatest fault was rearing its head. Angry at the situation, Fish had taken his displeasure out on Henry. Yes, Henry could have handled his end better but the idea of Fish being angry at Henry for endangering himself was hypocrisy. Ever since they'd arrived at the Hub, Fish had been trying to work out how to apologise, or at the very least get Henry to talk to him. Now, he was now frantically trying to work something out but a polite throat clear behind him interrupted his thoughts. 

"Jack said you required my assistance, Joe?" he asked, stiffly. 

"Yeah. Usually I have Evie help me with things like this but…" he shrugged. "Your fingers are longer and slimmer than Jack's."

Henry looked uncomfortable. "I'm sure Gwen or Doctor Jones-"

"They aren't immortal," Fish interrupted. "When I tinker with sort of thing, as few lives need to be endangered as possible." 

Henry eyed the alien device and nodded, stepping towards the table. 

"I need you to do exactly as I tell you and nothing else," Fish said, pointing at the device in front of him. 

Henry peered down into the device. "I understand." 

Fish pointed at the device. "I need you to lift this straight upwards. I'm going to try and remove the base from underneath. If I'm successful, do not let go of the handle. Hold it steady." 

Henry nodded and grasped the handle. He held it up in the air and Fish knelt down beneath it. 

"Okay, I'm going to see if this will turn. When I push up, try to keep it still." 

Fish pushed upwards on the flat surface and twisted. Nothing. He twisted in the other direction and it was the anti-clockwise twist that did it. The circular base began to move. 

"Don't move, Henry," Fish said as he twisted. He felt the base come free from the top. "Okay, now, together we're going to move it back to the table. Follow my lead and when it's down on the mat, don't let go."

The two men carefully set the piece of tech onto the mat on Fish's worktable. Henry held onto the handle. 

"I need you to lift the casing upwards. If you encounter any resistance, stop but don't let go," Fish said. "If you manage to get the case up completely, just lay it down next to rest of it."

Henry nodded and Fish backed away from the worktable a few meters. Henry pulled upwards and the sloped section of the cone and the handle pulled away, leaving the cone shaped innards on Fish's mat. The casing came completely free and Henry set it down on another mat. 

Once Henry let go, he slowly let out the breath he was holding. "Is it dangerous, Joe?" 

Fish stepped back towards the table. "I don't know. There are inherent problems with taking apart a piece of equipment when you've no idea how it was assembled. I don't know how delicate the circuitry is or what would have happened if we'd moved it too quickly or bumped it or-"

"I understand, Joe," Henry said, tersely, holding up his hand to stop Fish's rambling. He turned and went to step away but Fish grabbed his arm. "Do you require any more assistance?"

"No. Thanks, Henry," Fish said. _Coward…_  

"You're welcome," Henry replied, stiffly. He turned and walked away again, this time glancing back at Fish for a moment. There was so much pain in that look. Fish reached out for his arm again and Henry turned.  

"I…" Fish started to say. _Swallow your fucking pride…_ He pulled Henry into his arms, kissing him deeply. He actually felt Henry sway a bit as he moaned into his mouth. When they broke apart, Fish rested his forehead against Henry's. 

"I love you," Fish whispered.

"I love you too, Joe," Henry said softly, cupping his face. "Does this mean you are no longer angry with me?" 

"I wasn't really angry with you. I'm just angry and I'm taking it out on you and I'm sorry," Fish admitted. It seemed like he was always apologising to Henry. "I like maths, Henry. I live my life in constants - Avogadro's number, Boltzmann, Planck, the speed of light… and you not being able to get sick." 

"You promised to make an effort to cease taking your displeasure out on me," Henry said, his brow furrowing. 

"I know and I'm sorry," Fish said with a sigh. 

"Shh… it's already forgiven, love," Henry said, smiling, kissing Fish again. "I'm sorry as well. I could have gone about it better. I barked commands at you and I should not have done." 

"Something you promised to try and stop too," Fish said, running his finger down Henry's cheek. "Too bad we don't have time for some make-up sex…" 

"The best part of any disagreement," Henry laughed and backed away. "You should get to work. Let me know if you need help again." 

"Yeah, I'll let you know if I need an extra set of hands," Fish said. He crouched down and started tilting his head this way and that, looking into the device. He was slowly rotating the mat it was on while he examined it. "Actually, Henry, don't go anywhere. This thing's cramped. I think I am going to need that extra set of hands." 

Henry walked back over to him. "I still think Jack should hire more staff." 

Fish picked up a small tool and handed it to Henry. "From what I gather… Do me a favour, Henry and touch the end of that probe to that silvery bit. It's sort of like playing operation… don't touch anything else…"

"Here, Joe?"

"Yeah. Anyway, like I was saying, from what I gather, him and Evie are always on the lookout for someone to hire. I think they might start keeping an eye on that MacDonald fellow. Hold steady a sec." Fish flipped on his equipment and began twisting dials. 

"Who is 'that MacDonald fellow'?" Henry asked. 

"Scottish bloke from the hospital," Fish said, glancing down at his equipment display. "You can put that down now, Henry. Thanks." 

Henry laid the probe down on the table. 

"I thought Mao-Lin was your physician," Henry said, looking over the alien device himself. 

"Yeah but Evie's bogged down with a lot of administrative duties because she's second in command. I heard that Gwen used to be second and she couldn't wait to dump all that on someone else. If we had another doctor, it would help spread the work," Fish said with a shrug. He turned the device onto its side. "I know that Jack would like another technician." 

"He's dissatisfied with your work?" Henry asked, confused. 

"No, but you know I cut back on my field time," Fish said, tilting his head. He picked up the casing and started examining the inside. "He needs someone else out in the field to handle the tech. Plus, my expertise is really chemistry not engineering. I get by but a lot of this alien shite is still over my head. Henry? Hold it up like this for me? Right… thanks. This is so much easier than doing it myself." 

While Henry held the casing steady, Fish was able to accomplish his work more easily. 

"Perhaps you should speak with Jack about hiring you an assistant," Henry said, his fingers still on the alien device. 

"He was going to offer a job to you actually," Fish said with a laugh. "Ideally, I think he wants to add another immortal to the fold no matter what their role within the team." 

After shifting nervously, Henry raised his eyebrow. "I mean no offence, Joe, but I do not believe Torchwood is for me. I do not mind lending my assistance on occasion-" 

"That's what Evie said and I agreed. You can ease it back down," Fish interrupted with a laugh. He stood up and gave his lover a very serious look. "If the world was ending, Henry, and the only way to save it was to put a bullet in my head… would you do it? Could you?" 

The question took Henry completely aback. His eyes went wide and he stammered, "Joe…"

"See? That's why Evie didn't offer you the job. You just hesitated," Fish said. He smiled and said, more softly, "I'm flattered, no mistake. But if someone handed me a sword and told me it was you or the rest of the human race… I wouldn't bat an eyelash and swing. How I'd feel afterwards would be a different story but I'd still do it. That's Torchwood. That's who we are." 

Henry reached up and cupped his lover's face. "Your valour and nobility are what I love about you, Joe." 

"Says the man with the actual title," Fish teasing, rolling his eyes a bit. 

"Nobility lies in action, not in name," Henry said. 

"Please, don't quote Star Trek to me, Henry," Fish said, wincing. "It really weirds me out." 

Henry smiled and kissed Fish gently. 

"In any case, I don't think I'd get any work done if you were here… You're too distracting," Fish said. He slid his hands down Henry's back and into the back pockets of his jeans. He dipped his head, sucking on Henry's neck. 

"Now that the two of you have made up, why don't you two go have fifteen minutes downstairs so that you can get to work without anymore distractions, Fish?" Jack suggested as he walked past them.

The two men leapt apart, Henry looking guilty. 

"Thanks, Jack," Fish said, blushing furiously. 

Smothering a grin and shaking his head, the fifty first century man headed for the east stairs. Fish started for the north stairs with Henry's hand in his but Henry remained rooted on the spot. 

"Shouldn't you get back to work, Joe?" Henry asked, looking confused.

"He wasn't making a joke, Henry. He was being serious," Fish said, tugging at Henry's hand again. "C'mon, Jack just gave us fifteen minutes and you're wasting them just standing there!"


	22. Chapter 22

They didn't have a lot of time so Fish just dragged Henry into the room he knew was the closest - the hand to hand gym. He went down the north stairs and turned left at the t-junction. It was the first door. The two men stumbled into the room with the door slamming behind them. Like most of the rooms in the Hub, the hand to hand gym was only a repurposed storage room. It was a large, cavernous room with high ceilings. The hard concrete floor was covered with thick mats. The two of them never made it to those mats. Henry merely pushed Fish against the closed door as the two of them began attacking each other's belts. 

"Captain Harkness has a unique management style," Henry laughed.

"Gift horse, Henry," Fish replied. 

"I wasn't complaining, love," Henry said as he sank to his knees. He freed his lover's straining erection from his jeans, licking his lips in anticipation. 

"Holy shit!" Fish screamed as Henry engulfed him with his mouth. One of Fish's hands flew out along the door, scrambling for some purchase. His other hand found the knob, gripping it, white knuckle. Fish had had something more mutual in mind but he wasn't about to argue. 

Fish used to roll his eyes at the fact that Ianto and Jack had sexual encounters all over the Hub. More than a few times, he'd been somewhere in the Hub and heard low moans or cries of delight. Over the years, he'd even walked in on the two men more times than he cared to remember. Now, he understood the appeal. Setting aside the fact that the Hub was, in fact, Jack and Ianto's home, it was also a vast maze of tunnels and obscure little rooms that were perfect for secluded rendezvous. It was quite excitable. 

Henry increased his suction and Fish screamed, the ecstatic cry echoing through the high ceiling. He stopped only so he could yank off one of Fish's trainers, tossing it unceremoniously to the side along with his own pants and trousers. As Henry eased Fish's bare foot out of his trousers and onto his shoulder, Fish forced his eyes open. Henry was half dressed, his trousers and pants were tossed aside. His button down shirt was completely undone. His erection was peeking between the bright blue cloth as Henry stroked himself. Fish's mouth watered at the small bead of precome that was gathering at the tip. 

"Henry… please…" Fish gasped, nudging Henry's free hand.  

His lover understood the request. He let Fish's cock pop from his mouth. He teased the tip with his tongue for a moment and sucked on two of his fingers. Henry reached up, pressing those moist fingers against Fish's entrance, penetrating him slowly, mindful there was less lubrication than he'd be used to. He crooked his fingers into Fish's prostate and Fish's head slammed back against the door. Another scream echoed through the room. 

"Holy fucking God!" Fish screamed. 

Since discovering how sensitive his lover was, Henry did his best to help Fish explore this new aspect to his sexuality fully. Henry smiled, pressing his fingertips into the bundle of nerves harder and Fish screamed as his cock spasmed. It jerked upwards nearly slapping Fish's belly before flopping back down. Henry took it for the invitation it was. He resumed sucking on his treat and was rewarded with a stream of babbled obscenities. 

Capable of multitasking, Henry resumed stroking himself as he pleasured his lover. His lover's scent, the sound of his voice and their surroundings had Henry so turned on that soon, the splattering of come hitting the concrete floor was the next sound echoing in the room. The hard cock in his mouth muffled his own scream. Without thinking, he wiped his hand off on his shirt and then brought it up to tug at Fish's heavy sac. His lover continued babbling incoherently against the dual assault of Henry's fingers and mouth. 

"Oh God… Henry… fuck, that… that's so… so good… oh God…" Fish continued to babble. "Please… don't stop…" 

He didn't want this to end. Fish was fighting his orgasm, calculating square roots in his head, determined to use their full fifteen minutes and not a second less. But one last press of Henry's fingers was all it took. He came hard and swore he dented the door knob he gripped it so tightly. Henry drank down every drop of his release greedily, his eyes rolling into his head at the taste. He took Fish into his mouth fully, massaging the oversensitive head with his tongue and throat. Fish's cock gave a few more weak spurts of come and he screamed again.  

When Henry withdrew his fingers and let Fish's softening cock slide from his mouth, Fish's knees completely gave way. He slid down the door and landed on the concrete, his bare backside hitting Henry's come with a slight splat. It was the reversal of a particularly erotic encounter they'd had in Henry's kitchen back in Vancouver. Fish sat there, his arse resting on cold, come-moistened concrete as he tried to catch his breath. 

"Holy shit, Henry," he gasped. 

Every encounter he'd had with Henry had done this to him. He felt completely boneless. Henry rested himself against his chest and Fish closed his eyes. He didn't care his arse was cold and the concrete uncomfortable. He didn't care about his trousers and pants ridiculously hanging from one of his ankles. All he cared about was the feel of Henry in his arms. He was content and sated and so very much in love. Henry slid his hand across Fish's chest. He closed his eyes, trying to extend the moment. 

He let out a small sigh and opened his eyes and saw a few splatters of come on his puddled jeans and pants. He noticed that Henry's clothing hadn't survived their encounter unscathed. There was come on his shirt. Henry followed Fish's gaze. "Blast…" 

"The locker room's down this way. I have a few changes of clothes. My shirts'll fit you but they might offend your fashion sense," Fish teased with a smile.

"I'm sure they will be fine." Henry let out a small chuckle. It had started to become a bit of an inside joke with them. Henry's fashion sense was far more refined than Fish's but since most of Henry's things were in storage, he'd taken to wearing a great many of Fish's clothes. 

Fish planted his palm on the floor to push himself up but Henry stopped him. 

"Not just yet, love," Henry said, hugging Fish close. He checked his watch. "We have a few minutes and I wanted to speak to you about something." 

"Ominous, Henry," Fish said, rolling his eyes. "We just worked out one disagreement and you want to start another one?"  

"It's nothing bad, love," Henry insisted, nuzzling himself in closer. "There is a flat or rather a large loft that is available near the bay. I know we didn't speak about whether or not a loft would be acceptable."

"I don't know when I'm going to be able to get away to see it, Henry," Fish said with a sigh. "I don't have a problem with a loft. I know you need a lot of space for your sword practice. If it's big enough you could paint there too."

"I'd prefer to keep my workplace separate. Many of the mediums and grounds I use are also quite toxic," he said. He shifted so he could sit up a bit. "I had hoped we could make the decision about our home together but I did not wish to lose another opportunity. So I have already made an offer. I hope you're not upset with me, Joe." 

"You did?" Fish said, brightly. "Of course, I'm not upset, Henry. I trust your judgement. It's a loft so it doesn't have a balcony, does it?" 

"No, but there is a fireplace and the windows are large and the view is quite lovely."  

"Do I even want to know how much this place was?" he asked, a bit nervous. 

"It was far less than the other listings because it requires a bit of work," Henry said, a bit hesitant and Fish caught it.

"Why do I get a feeling that 'a bit of work' is subjective here?" he teased. 

"The kitchen appliances are not working and the bathroom is in pieces. The bedroom is also open to the rest of the loft and there is no guest room."

"A bit of work? Henry, it sounds like the place is in pieces," Fish said, furrowing his brow. "It'll be weeks before we could move in." 

"It is the reason the price is so low," Henry said, standing up. "It is low enough that your contribution could easily be half, as you had wished. I'm certain the renovations can be completed quickly for the right price." 

"You're not going to let me help pay for these renovations are you?" he asked, standing as well. He picked up his soiled jeans and pants. 

Henry only glared at his lover. 

"Didn't think so," Fish said. He smiled. Finances were a constant pull between the two of them. Fish didn't know whether or not it was because they were both men but the two of them seemed to constantly fight for the roles of breadwinner and protector. "I'm sorry we didn't get to make the decision together, Henry. I know it's not what you wanted but-"

"We both wish to move out of that breadbox we currently live in," Henry finished for him. 

"Yeah," Fish laughed. He put his arms around Henry's waist. He brushed his fingers down Henry's cheek. He stared into the green eyes, smiling. "I think it's better this way. Since the place is in pieces, we can build it to together, make the decisions together." 

Henry kissed the tip of Fish's nose. "Once this case is over, I'll begin arrangements for the renovations."  

"You do know you're going to end up making most of the decisions? I can't match a tie to a shirt, do you think I can match carpet and tile?" Fish said with a laugh. 

"I'm certain we can come to something that is mutual, Joe," Henry said, pushing himself into his lover. 

"I wish Jack had given us longer than fifteen minutes," Fish said, dipping his head. He sucked on Henry's neck, hard, leaving behind a large love bite. It would be gone by the time they got back upstairs. 

"Perhaps, I will be able to steal you away for a short while later?" Henry asked, mischievously. 

"Sounds like wishful thinking," Fish said, with a grin. "C'mon. Let's get cleaned up. I have a feeling this is going to be a long day."


	23. Chapter 23

After Henry and Fish had made use of their fifteen minutes, they settled into work more focused than before. Ianto hadn't found a single piece of paper to go with the device except for Jack's report detailing its retrieval, identification and storage. To Fish's annoyance, Jack had told him it was the thirtieth century equivalent of a whoopee cushion. The idea that this sophisticated piece of equipment was used to play practical jokes unnerved Fish mostly because it was past midnight and he was still tinkering with it.

Jack twisted in his chair, looking out his office window and saw Fish and Henry still bent over the piece of equipment. He saw Fish lean back and rub at one of his eyes. He twisted his neck back and forth, wincing. Henry stood up and began kneading at Fish's shoulders, the two of them talking back and forth. Jack watched as Fish's eyes began to close and his head started to droop. The Australian snapped his head back up and his eyes open and then set back to his work. _That's it…_  

Jack pushed out of his desk chair and strode out of his office door. He bellowed, "Fish! Go home!" 

"But Jack-"

"That's an order," Jack interrupted. "Both of you. Get out of here. I'll see you at nine." 

"Jack… if the hospital staff follow the same course as the Wilson family then they're going to start dying soon. I need to keep working," Fish insisted. 

Jack looked from Fish to Henry and then back again. 

"Fine. Sleep for a few hours downstairs. Four hours, minimum," Jack said. 

"Three."

"Four," Jack repeated. "Or sleep for three and use the other hour for sex." 

Fish blushed scarlet but Henry saw his lover relent. He turned towards the east stairs. 

Trying to head off the immortal man, Jack jogged across the Hub. He got in front of Henry, standing in his path. His hand was extended, pressed into Henry's chest. He repeated, "I mean it, Henry. Go get some rest." 

The Duke shook his head. "I'm just going to check on Mao-Lin before-" 

"I've got it," Jack said. He didn't want to give Fish any excuses to start tinkering with that EMP generator again. He flicked his gaze at Fish and the EMP generator. Fish was already leaning over the device again. Jack gave Henry a pointed look and said softly, "Go give him a reason to get away from his work. He needs to rest or at least relax." 

Henry followed Jack's gaze and nodded. He walked over to Fish. Jack watched as Henry whispered something in Fish's ear. There was no mistaking the hungry look that came over Fish's face nor the darkening of his eyes. The two men took off towards the north stairs. Jack grinned at the lovers. Fish had become a changed man ever since Henry had walked into his life and it was a good change. 

Jack had seen so many Torchwood agents adjust to the life over the past century and Fish had been no different. At first, the Australian had thrown himself into his work with a boyish glee, the idealism of being a part of something as big and grand as Torchwood bringing a greater sense of purpose to his life. Eventually, though, every Torchwood agent had what Fish had termed his 'Red Pill Moment.' The reliquary had dropped through the rift and Miranda had shot a ten year old boy dead right in front of his eyes. It had brought reality crashing down hard on the Australian. There were aliens and a future for the human race but it wasn't like a science fiction show. This wasn't an episode of Star Trek were Captain Kirk saves the day and only one bloke in a red shirt dies. 

It had been one of the harsher reality checks and Miranda had given Jack a thorough dressing down about the trauma to her friend. Jack had stood his ground. Miranda might think that Fish was going to accept the retcon and leave but Jack knew better. The immortal woman may constantly call him 'woefully obtuse' but she could be just as bad. _Show him the bottom of Pandora's Box_ … he'd ordered. It had been the solution and Fish had stayed. Fish had mourned the loss of his rose tinted shades, the same way every Torchwood agent did. 

After that, Jack had seen the other Torchwood shoe drop - Fish's first close call. The technician had been fiddling with a piece of tech when something had short circuited, electrocuting him. His heart had stopped and, thankfully, Miranda had only been a few steps away. Once he was up and about, Fish had asked for the name of Miranda's solicitor and financial advisor so he could make all his final arrangements. He'd boxed up anything he hadn't wanted to end up in storage and sent it to his sister. 

Shortly after being confronted with his Torchwood life expectancy, Fish had started going out every night and coming in hung over almost daily. Jack had worried about him, wondering if Joseph Fischer was their new Owen Harper but the self destructive behaviour had tapered off. The Australian continued to have the occasional one night stand, but never anything more steady. That didn't surprise Jack. Torchwood wasn't relationship friendly and Fish's background had showed that he hadn't had a serious relationship since his fiancée had left him. 

Now, Fish had Henry and Jack couldn't be happier for the two of them. There was a lightness to Fish that there hadn't been before. Jack would often catch him staring off into space and smiling. The man was ridiculously in love. The only change to Fish's work was the reduction of his field time. Once Gwen and Ianto had gotten back on their feet after the alien plant spores, Fish had asked to speak with him. In no uncertain terms, he had said he was cutting back on his field time and that unless the spike absolutely required the whole team, he would only be backup from now on. Fish wasn't the first operative to spend most of his time in the Hub and Jack had been more than happy to comply as it would drastically improve Fish's life expectancy. 

He and Miranda had stepped up their efforts to find a new team member. Cameron MacDonald showed a great deal of promise. Miranda had planted the seed and sent the young man off to see what grew. They'd performed a smaller background check than usual because of the current case taking up so much of their time. Ianto found out that he'd worked at the hospital for only a few years and that he'd earned his medical degree in England but that was all he'd dug into the young man for now. 

Unfortunately, Ianto had informed Jack that the young Scot had purchased a train ticket to Glasgow so Jack wasn't holding much hope for that prospect. The process of finding new Torchwood operatives was a delicate one. Sometimes you plant the seed in their minds and it just doesn't take root and sometimes they impersonate pizza delivery girls and end up meeting Janet. It was all very hit or miss. Miranda still hadn't mentioned any immortals she thought suitable. Jack knew that was the biggest long shot. Frequent deaths made Miranda regularly vulnerable when she worked for Torchwood and Jack was certain there would be very few, if any, immortals of the Game she would trust with that. Though lately it wasn't just the deaths leaving Miranda vulnerable. 

When Miranda had first fallen ill, Jack had been terrified. It was like the Nepanthians all over again. Now that a solution was in sight, Jack had relaxed. He turned and started to walk down the stairs towards the isolation cell. Four thousand years of health and well-being had removed Miranda's ability to cope with illness. The fatigue and other symptoms were hitting her hard. The immortal woman was miserable. When she wasn't sleeping, she would lay in bed, staring off. 

Jack turned the corner to the containment cell and saw Ethan Donovan sitting next on the concrete floor next to Miranda's cot, arranging a cool cloth on her head. Jack rapped his knuckles on the glass, not noticing that Miranda was fast asleep. She didn't wake at the knocking.  

"Hey! Get out of there!" he yelled.

Donovan shook his head and put his finger to his lips. 

Angry, Jack circled around to the cell's outer room. He shut the outer door and then opened the inner one. He grabbed Donovan by the arm and yanked him to his feet. 

"Out!" he barked. 

"Shh! She's asleep!" Donovan hissed, shaking off Jack's arm. He walked out of the room after giving Miranda one more look. Once they were safely in the hallway, Jack shut the doors, sealing Miranda in the room alone. 

"Henry and I are taking care of her, Ethan," Jack snapped, pointing his finger right in Donovan's face. "That's an order." 

"Why, Jack? Cos I could get sick? Well that shit applies to you and Henry too," he said. Anger thickened his accent and ruined his grammar. "Me being in there ain't any more dangerous than the two-a you so if you think I'm leavin' her alone, you got another fuckin' thing comin'!" 

Jack narrowed his eyes at the change in Donovan's tone. He'd hit a nerve and there was only one reason he would have hit this nerve. Donovan hadn't taken his warning seriously. "What did I tell you about her?"   

"She's important to me but I'm not in love with her," Donovan insisted. He really didn't believe what he was saying and he could tell Jack didn't either. _As if anyone can stop themself from falling in love…_ He sighed and shook his head. It was none of Jack's business but Torchwood's family-like atmosphere had been infecting him. 

While the south Boston accent would never leave him, Donovan had worked hard to not sound like an Irish mobster but whenever he was really angry, things slipped. He blurted, "Fine. I admit it. I love her. Look, I'm a realist, Jack. I get that she's way the fuck outta my league. I get that there's no future here. This ain't gonna to lead to family dinners and her meeting my kids and wedding bells. I ain't fucking stupid. I married my high school sweetheart cos that was just the thing you did. And somewhere along the way we both realised that we'd never loved each other, not the way we should've but we stuck it out cos that was just the thing you did. I've been trapped in a fuckin' loveless, empty marriage my whole fuckin' life and I'd like to believe that it's possible for me _to_ fall in love - that I even know how - and she's helping me with that. Is that fucking okay with you?" 

Jack lifted his chin, defiantly. "No intimate contact. You don't so much as kiss her." 

"We back to the fact that I'm schtupping your ex-wife, Jack?" Donovan said, rolling his eyes. 

"As if," Jack snapped. He jammed his finger into Donovan's chest for emphasis. "You're an American citisen on British soil under our protection. Torchwood is not sending MiB's Director home in a glass jar." 

"Yes, Captain," Donovan snapped out. 

"Good, go get some sleep," Jack said, his voice kinder. "Downstairs, not in there." 

Donovan went back into the isolation cell and Jack watched as he laid his hand on Miranda's forehead. Mindful that Jack was watching him, Donovan resisted the impulse to kiss her. He left the room to sleep in Miranda's rooms. "Good night, Jack."

"Night, Ethan." 

Once Donovan was out of sight, Jack headed to his own office. He lifted the hatch and winced at the slight squeal. He'd forgotten to oil the hinge. Ianto was going to…

"Jack! Oil that tomorrow, I mean it!" Ianto called up from the bunker. 

Jack winced as he descended the ladder, shutting the hatch behind him. "Tomorrow." 

"I was asleep, Cariad," Ianto said, rolling over. 

"Sorry," Jack said as he started getting undressed. 

"What's wrong?" Ianto asked. He sat up, bending his knees and resting his arms on his legs. 

He jerked his chin towards the north stairs. "Ethan and Will. I don't know what she sees in him." 

Ianto smothered a grin. That had been asked of Ianto about Jack quite a few times. "I don't think she sees anything, tell you the truth." 

"What do you mean?" Jack asked, sitting down on the bed. 

Ianto winced as Jack took off his socks. He tossed them at the hamper. One sock landed in the hamper, the other hit the outside and fell to the floor. He rolled his eyes. That sock wouldn't be moving any time soon. "I mean, that he's not the sort of man I'd see her with. He's nothing like you." 

"Why would he have to be like me, Yan?" Jack asked, confused. He started unbuttoning his shirt cuffs. 

"Well, I only know two people she's had any sort of relationship with… you and Nora," Ianto said, shrugging. "Ethan isn't like either of you so I wouldn't classify him as being 'her type', if she even has a type." 

Jack let out a snort. "It depends. If she's just looking for sex, all she wants is a pretty face and a decent body."

"Ah, that explains Donovan better," Ianto said and Jack nodded.

"When she's looking for something more? Will likes the brainiac sort of woman but she's got this weakness for the bad boy when it comes to men." 

"Ah, I can see why she married you then," Ianto teased. 

Jack cast him a glare as he stood up to take off his trousers. "It's a good thing he's leaving soon. They're a recipe for disaster." 

"Owen said the same thing about us," Ianto said. 

"Wait, what?" Jack said and froze to look at Ianto. It was quite comical, Jack half bent over with his trousers half off, staring at him with his mouth half open. "Owen?" 

Ianto couldn't help the laugh. "After Abaddon, they all cornered me. First Gwen and then Tosh and then Owen." 

"You never told me that," Jack said. He tossed his trousers and pants into the hamper. He turned off the lamp and slid into the bed. "Owen said we were a recipe for disaster?" 

"Well, first he tested me for every sexually transmitted disease there was and then a few that I'm sure were alien," Ianto said with a laugh. He edged his way closer to Jack, putting his arms around him. "Then he told me that loving you was a recipe for disaster." 

"What did you say?" Jack asked, honestly curious. 

"I told him that I didn't love you, that we were just having a bit of fun," Ianto said with a shrug. He kissed the point of Jack's shoulder. 

"Did you love me back then?" 

Ianto leaned back to look at Jack, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. "I guess it's not the romantic thing for me to say but, no, I didn't." 

Jack remembered when he knew he loved Ianto Jones. The Master had decided to see how long it would take for him to starve to death. Towards the end, he'd been delirious and too weak to move or speak. He had started to hallucinate and what his mind had chosen to hallucinate was Ianto Jones. It had been a pure fantasy, a dream that couldn't exist. He was living with Ianto on Boeshane. The two of them were laughing and talking as they prepared dinner. Jack had even been able to hear the ocean in the background. Ianto had come up behind him, put his arms around his waist and told Jack that he loved him and Jack had answered, _I love you too, Ianto…_ Jack had revived on the Valiant and the first thing he'd uttered had been Ianto's name. It had dawned on Jack the moment he'd regained his wits. He was in love with Ianto Jones.

After that, the thought of returning to Ianto was all that kept Jack going. He'd thought about the rest of the team, of course but in the long, cold and lonely days ahead, it was Ianto who kept him warm. Jack had had a lot of time on his hands and he'd used it to think. He'd thought long and hard about his feelings and how he'd treated his Welshman. No, that had been wrong. Ianto wasn't his but Jack vowed that one day he would be. He'd work harder. He'd treat Ianto the way he deserved… and one day… one day Jack hoped he'd hear those words in beautiful Welsh vowels for real and not just in his dreams. 

"When did you realise you loved me? Was it after Tommy?" Jack asked. 

Ianto smiled. "No, it wasn't then." 

At first, when Jack had returned to them after his disappearance, Ianto had been wary. He hadn't wanted to admit that it had been more than just sex, that he'd started to fancy Jack, but the truth was that he had. He'd seen the potential for him to fall in love with Jack and when Jack had been gone, Ianto had told himself all sorts of things to make dealing with the abandonment better. Jack needed his answers. Jack Harkness wasn't the falling in love sort. A nobody from Newport couldn't possibly compete with a Time Lord and all of time and space… 

None of those things were really true and when Jack had come back, Ianto couldn't believe how relieved he was. He'd played it cool but he was still hurt and he'd made Jack work hard to get back into his good graces. What had surprised Ianto the most was that Jack had, in fact, wanted to do the work to get back into his good graces. Dinner? A movie? A date? What Jack had said to him before they'd sent Tommy back to 1918 were the final pieces that had earned Ianto's forgiveness. He'd let Jack back into his bed but it wasn't the moment love had entered the equation. The love, for Ianto, had built slowly over time. 

"When was it?" Jack asked, smiling. 

"It's not as simple as a single moment," Ianto said. 

"Tell me anyway," Jack said, running his fingers through Ianto's hair. He smiled, kissing the top of his head.  

"It started after the space whale," Ianto replied. 

"The space whale?" That wasn't what Jack expected. 

"Yup." Ianto nodded. He kissed the tip of Jack's nose. "You could have had her, you know. All you would have had to do was step up and take her." 

"Ianto…" Jack said with a groan. They were past this. Past Gwen. 

"No, listen to me, Jack," Ianto said. "After that whole scene with Gwen, Tosh and Owen both looked at it like I was your second choice. They looked at it like you were settling for me since you couldn't have Gwen. And yeah, that was how it looked-"

"I wasn't settling, Ianto," Jack said, angry. 

"I know that, Jack. Let me finish," Ianto said, patiently. There were a lot of insecurities here that had taken Ianto a long time to move through and some he was still working on. "You took that bottle from me and I felt the way your fingers brushed against the back of my hand. That was when I knew you'd made a choice and that you'd chosen me. That was the moment I knew I could love you if I let myself. So I did. I spent that whole year falling in love with you."

"Yeah?" Jack asked. 

"Yeah," Ianto said, blushing a bit. "That first night you stayed over-"

"After we lost those three days," Jack said, smiling. He'd made Ianto breakfast. 

Ianto nodded. "We finally got that date, before Martha came…"

"That was some night," Jack said with a laugh. It had been dinner and a movie and so, so much more. 

"Bordering on the avant-garde," Ianto chuckled. "We had that lovely dance at Gwen's wedding…" 

"That was you marking your territory," Jack teased. 

"A bit, but it was still nice," Ianto said, smiling. "We had that mini-holiday after the night travelers-"

"I wouldn't call spending all weekend in bed at your flat a mini-holiday, Ianto," Jack said with an eye roll. 

"It was to me. It was romantic. We still had our fun though. Remember when Gwen caught us in the hothouse?" Ianto said with a laugh. He propped his chin up on Jack's chest so he could look him in the eyes. "But, if you really want to pin it down, the moment I knew for certain was when that bomb exploded. I closed my eyes and filled my heart and my mind with you." 

And there it was again, the elephant in the room. Jack remembered when he revived and saw Gwen and Rhys standing over him. Toshiko had been closer to him but he'd had to find Ianto. He'd been relieved beyond words that Ianto had still been alive. Gwen had run off to find Owen and that was when the moment that Jack had hoped for and dreamed of for nearly a year had finally happened. Once Gwen was out of ear shot, Ianto had turned to him. There had been blood and dirt on his face, and tears on his cheeks but he'd looked Jack straight in the eyes and said the same thing he was saying now. 

"I love you, Jack." 

And, again, Jack response was the same. 

"I love you, too, Ianto." 

Unlike that day in the warehouse, Jack tugged Ianto on top of him thoroughly intent on showing him exactly how much.


	24. Chapter 24

Ianto may have been on top but Jack was the one setting a pace that was long and slow. He ran his lips along Ianto's jaw, the tip of his tongue just barely tracing the bone beneath the skin. Jack felt Ianto's belly quiver. 

"Jack…" he gasped. 

"Shh…" Jack whispered. "Just feel." 

The scent of Ianto's aftershave was drifting down, it was barely there but the stronger scent was Ianto's own. Better pheromones weren't the only human improvement over the few thousand years of evolution that separated Jack and Ianto. Every one of Jack's senses was stronger. He had a nose like a bloodhound and there was no scent that sent blood rushing to his cock faster than the tang of Ianto Jones. That scent hit him hard as he pulled Ianto's t-shirt up over his head, making his dick twitch and his mouth water. 

Jack ran his hands over Ianto's chest, feeling the hair beneath his hands. He pulled Ianto down, rolling them and letting his hands continue to touch and tease. He sucked hard where Ianto's neck met his shoulder and felt Ianto's fingers dig into his arms. He heard the hitched breath and then the low moan. Jack felt moisture on his hip where Ianto's cock had leaked through his pyjama bottoms and pants. 

His mouth still watering, Jack let his lips work their way down Ianto's chest and belly. He paused along the way, lavishing attention on his lover's body, teasing and stimulating each well known hotspot. Jack had taken great care and immense joy in learning the intricacies of Ianto's body. New and novel was always at treat but there was nothing like long and slow with well known territory. He knew exactly where to suck, where to kiss and where to lick to make Ianto pant and that was what Ianto was doing, his hands fisted in the sheets. Ianto wanted to have his own turn with Jack's body. He wanted to be able to return the same attention he was receiving but Ianto recognised Jack's mood. He knew to lay back and just enjoy because there was no way Jack would allow him to participate in this encounter.  

Barely able to contain his anticipation, Jack hooked his thumbs into the pyjama bottoms, pushing them down to expose Ianto's straining cock. It twitched in the cool air. Jack buried his nose in the curls next to that cock, right at the top of Ianto's thigh. He breathed in a few lungfuls and was rewarded with a laugh and a slight spasm. 

"That tickles, Jack," Ianto laughed. 

He lifted his head and smiled. He flicked his gaze to the bedside table and Ianto rolled. He opened the drawer, digging out their supplies. This would be the only choice Jack would permit Ianto to make tonight and Ianto felt a bit indecisive so he threw the ball into his lover's court. 

"Tell me what _you_ want," Ianto asked, waggling the bottle. 

Jack smiled and then dipped his head, sucking on Ianto's heavy sac, pulling each testicle into his mouth, gently. Ianto nearly dropped the bottle as he gasped. Jack laved his tongue up the heavy vein on his cock and Ianto moaned loudly. 

"Jones, Ianto Jones…" Jack said, his voice low and husky. He locked eyes with his lover, pleased to see the lust blown pupils. "I want to give you the ride of your life." 

His smile broadened as he saw those pupils dilate further. Jack surged upward, kissing him deeply, sucking on his tongue. Fumbling behind Jack's back, Ianto drizzled the oil on his fingers. He slid them up into Jack, finding the bundle of nerves within him with practiced ease. Jack broke the kiss and screamed, fisting his hand in the pillowcase. His eyes slammed shut. 

"Ianto…" he gasped. 

"You don't get to do all the work," Ianto teased. 

A bit disappointed at his lack of participation in their foreplay up until this point, Ianto prepared Jack as slowly as his own lust would allow. 

"Gods, what you do to me, Yan," Jack gasped. 

"You're not the only one who can tease," Ianto said, giving his lover an evil grin. He removed his fingers and drizzled the alien oil over his cock, gasping a bit as it immediately began to warm and tingle. He had absolutely no idea how but the oil seemed to know how much warmth and tingle he wanted. 

Jack settled himself over Ianto's cock, lowering himself down. It was only years of experience that kept Ianto's eyes from sliding shut so he could watch himself disappearing into Jack's body. When he was buried to the root, he let out the breath he was holding. He sat up, wrapping his arms around Jack.

The moved together, Jack with his face buried in Ianto's neck. His hands were splayed across Ianto's back, fingers digging into the skin. Each of Ianto's thrusts hit his prostate dead on. His own cock was trapped between them, squeezed between their bellies. The combination was enough to make the room spin and his vision blur. This had started out as Jack wanting to show Ianto how much he loved him but it had morphed into something far more mutual. 

A lot of the team thought Jack made up stories about his many sexual conquests and escapades but he'd told Owen the truth. When you've live a long time, you don't make any more up. Jack had bedded a seemingly endless array of beings, alien and not, with appendages and flexibilities to boggle the imagination but among all of them, Ianto Jones was unique. Jack loved Ianto more than he'd ever allowed himself to love anyone. He loved Ianto more than he thought he could love anyone and as Ianto moved within him, that love overflowed from his heart. 

They drew the act out, trying to make it last as long as they could. It began as languid and slow but became more passionate, the two men pouring themselves into each other. With their faces buried in each other's necks, they shouted their mutual climax. Jack swore the entire world slid out from under him and Ianto was trembling in his arms from the force of his own release.

"I love you, Jack," he said, panting. 

"I love you too," Jack replied.

Jack slid off Ianto to lay beside him. As always, Ianto got up as soon as his legs would support his weight, disappearing into the small en suite. He returned with some warm, wet flannels for the both of them and once the post-coital necessity was taken care of, he settled in next to Jack in the double bed. Jack wasted no time, tangling their legs together and drawing Ianto into his arms. 

"Did I make up for waking you?" he asked, quietly. 

Ianto laughed softly. "Yes, you did. Good night, Cariad." 

"Night, Yan." 

Jack laid there for a while as Ianto fell back to sleep. In his own language, the language of Boeshane, words to describe relationships and what other people meant to each other were formed by a series prefixes, roots and suffixes that helped to define the subtleties of relationship. The words were fluid and unique to each person they were used to describe and could be ridiculously long. The word that Jack used to think of Miranda had nearly ten syllables in his own language. There were no set words and terms like lover or boyfriend or friend with benefits or spouse except for one. Its closest translation into English was soulmate. And not for the first time, that word whispered in Jack's mind as he fell asleep with Ianto in his arms _._


	25. Chapter 25

Miranda wasn't sure what time it was when she cracked open her eyes but, the minute she did, she wanted to just shut them again. It was hard to breathe and her throat was on fire. Every inch of her body ached and every ounce of energy was gone. Even breathing felt like a chore. It had been thousands of years since she'd been sick but, the closest thing she could remember to feeling this miserable had been her long voyage aboard the Bristol. Abducted and held at the whim of the crew, Miranda had borne the brunt of more than a few beatings. The aching whole body pain of those beatings was the closest thing to how she felt now. Each movement sent more pain shooting up her limbs and seemed to take every ounce of strength.

The mortals in her life often thought Miranda had an incredible tolerance for pain but, the truth was, in fact, the opposite. She was able to tolerate near fatal gunshot wounds or devastating injury because she knew the pain would be over far more quickly than if she were mortal. She was used to pain coming and going in the blink of an eye. This constant discomfort was something she was not accustomed to at all. 

She had not wanted her former student and friend to endanger himself for her but Henry had been a wonderful presence, caring and kind. Methos often scoffed at her for teaching the Duke, seeing his gentle nature as weakness but Miranda knew that underneath that gentility was a man of iron. He was unfailingly loyal and saw the beauty in everything and everyone around him. Before, Miranda had selected students for their mettle; their grit. After she met Henry, her values shifted and she began selecting her students for their heart. It was why she planned to teach Ianto when his time came. 

Henry was sitting in a low armchair that Ianto had brought up from her rooms. He was reading Victor Hugo's Les Miserables in the original French. A small coughing fit brought his head up. 

"Would you like some tea?" Henry asked softly, setting aside the book. 

She nodded but before Henry could get up, she grabbed his hand. "Wait. We need to speak, your grace." 

Henry sat back down. "Of what?" 

"First, I need you to go upstairs. Get Fish alone and tell him to turn off the surveillance in this room and the hallways outside. All of it. I need a complete blackout," she said. 

Henry eyed his teacher. "Joe will be reluctant-"

"Tell him it is a favour to me," she insisted. 

The Duke nodded and left the room. Miranda kept her eyes focused on the CCTV camera's light. After several minutes, she saw the camera's light go off. Henry's reappearance quickly followed. He had a mug of tea in his hands. 

"Joe says you have ten minutes," Henry said. He helped Miranda sit up and then placed the tray with the mug across her lap. "What is this about, Mei-Xiu?" 

Miranda sighed. This was going to be a difficult discussion. "If this device does not work-"

"Do not say such things," Henry interrupted. 

It made her throat hurt more, but Miranda raised her voice over him, "-we must discuss a course of action." 

Henry shook his head and made to leave the room but Miranda reached up. She seized her student's hand in an iron grip. 

"We will speak plainly to each other, _Henry_ ," she snapped, emphasizing her use of his name rather than his title. 

He sat down, a worried look on his face. 

She let her hand fall back onto the blankets, the movement exhausting her. "The course of this illness is clear. Tomorrow, I will be in a coma and four days after that I shall be dead. The bodies liquify after twenty four hours and I will take no chances with my quickening. Forty eight hours after I become comatose… you will take my head." 

 _"Absolutely not!"_ Henry shouted. He got up and whirled away, his hands waving. 

"Do you think I have survived four thousand years to see all that I am scattered on the winds? _YOU WILL DO THIS_!" Miranda ordered, her voice thunderous. The volume caused her to go into a coughing fit. 

"How can you ask this of me?" he asked her. "Why me? Why not Arjun or Amunet? They are also your students." 

"Because you are my favourite," she said simply. Her voice wavering on the last word. "Henry, you are not the most gifted student I have ever taught but you have the most heart and the largest soul. Amunet and Arjun… they are too lost in the past." 

Henry shook his head. "Why not someone else? The Highlander? Or Methos?" 

"Neither needs it… and when I pass into the next life, my promise to you will fall to Methos," she said, softly. 

"I don't care about what you promised me, Mei-Xiu!" Henry exclaimed. "You are my teacher! You are my best and oldest friend! I owe you my life! I love you! I cannot do this! I will not!"

" _You will_ ," she insisted. "You will carry out my final wishes and you will be here for Ianto when-"

"I will never take on a student!" Henry said, vehemently.  

"I do not expect that of you, Henry. The Highlander will instruct him in my stead." Miranda tried to sit up a bit more but was too weak. She took a few deep breaths. "Henry. _Please_." 

He gaped at her. He never thought he would hear Yi Mei-Xiu beg. 

"I cannot do this, Mei-Xiu," Henry repeated, shaking his head. The disappointment he saw in her eyes made him feel ashamed and he couldn't hold her gaze. 

She stared at him, the honey brown eyes ripping into him and through him and Henry felt ice pour down his neck. "When Matthew died and you wanted to die yourself, do you remember what I said to you?" 

"Yes," Henry said, his voice breaking a bit. Miranda had been close by, touring the young nation called America. She'd arrived for the funeral and had stayed at the plantation with him. Drunk and grief stricken, he'd burst into her room and attacked her. It had taken her less than a few seconds to disarm him. Her blade had been at his throat and he'd begged her to end it. She had said, _'Live, my lord. Live and one day, when it is truly time and you are truly ready, I will do this thing you ask. But that day is_ not _today.'_  

"And what did I say after you agreed?" she reminded. 

"That for that lifelong promise, one day, you would ask for something in return," Henry said. His voice was far away, like he was remembering a dream. 

"And I am asking you for this," she said, softly. 

He wanted to recant. He wanted to tell Miranda that he didn't need her promise. There had been times, over the years, that he had thought about asking but something had always held him back. Now, he looked towards the main Hub and thought of the day when memories would be all he would have of Joseph Fischer. 

He closed his eye as tears ran down his cheeks. "I will do as you ask." 

"Thank you, my Lord Richmond," Miranda said. She relaxed against the pillows. She reached out for his hand, holding it gently this time. There was a letter for him among her most private possessions but letters were different than words spoken aloud. "Our friendship has meant much to me over the years. I love you, Henry, with my whole heart." 

Henry knelt down. "Do not say good-bye yet." 

"Not goodbye then. A final lesson," she said, smiling. "You have shown me beauty. You helped me look upon the world anew and, after all my long years, that was… surprising. There is only one thing in life, mortal or immortal, Henry - to love and to be loved. And your love has made my life all the richer and for that, I am grateful. " 

Henry leaned forward. The kiss was long but chaste.

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillows. "You may have Fish turn back on the surveillance." 

He nodded at her and got up. Just as he was leaving the room, Ethan Donovan was entering it. 

"Who spit in his coffee?" Donovan asked, thumbing over his shoulder. 

"A minor difference of opinion, nothing more," Miranda said, sipping her tea.

Donovan leaned over and kissed Miranda's forehead gently. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, I'm fine," Miranda said with a weak smile. She saluted him with the mug of tea before taking another sip.  

Donovan smiled and sat down on the floor next to her cot and took Miranda's hand in his. She looked terrible, like death warmed over, if he was being honest. 

"How are you feeling?" 

"Terrible," Miranda said, closing her eyes. 

"Joe thinks he's onto something. We'll have you up and around in no time. You being sick is really freaking everybody out," he said with a slight laugh. His voice became serious. "Jack told me you're different than him." 

Miranda didn't say anything. She took her hand out of Donovan's and wrapped it around the mug. She stared down into the tea. 

"You know, when you said that the path to survival isn't pure and noble, I thought you were talking about what you'd seen in other people. But that wasn't it, was it? You were talking about this Game of yours, weren't you?" he asked softly, tilting his head trying to catch her gaze. 

Her mouth was thin and her eyes were smoldering. Donovan sat back up straight. 

"Don't be angry with him, babe. He wanted me on the same page as everybody else," he said, reaching to brush a lock of hair off her head. 

She pulled back away from his touch and her voice made the hairs on his arm stand up. "I have lived long enough to see my people vanish - nothing more now than broken bits of pottery in museums. Everything I have ever known is gone… everyone I love has turned to dust. I cannot even remember the sound of my own mother's voice." She turned, staring at him, her eyes like daggers. "The Game is all I have, Ethan." 

Donovan heard the threat in her voice and stamped back the pity knowing it would only inflame her anger. Bravely, he reached up so he could run the back of his hand down her cheek. "I'll take that secret to my grave, Miranda." 

He saw the skeptical look in her eyes. He leaned down again, trying to catch her gaze. "Hey, I'm serious, babe." 

She nodded. There was nothing she could do but trust him. 

"And, hey, the Game isn't all you got." He waved at the direction of the main Hub. "You got a job up there that matters. You're making a difference in the world. And more importantly, you got friends up there, Miranda; people who care about you. That counts for something." 

He reached up, poking the tip of her nose. "And what about me? I'll have you know I'm quite the catch as far as American bureaucrats go." 

She laughed at that and he felt a gush of affection for her. Sure, Donovan had expected to have the usual one night stands he had when he travelled to any city, but he hadn't expected this. 

As his marriage had deteriorated, slowly, over the course of twenty years, Donovan began to feel his heart atrophy. He went about his work life animated and energized but at home, it was robotic and automatic. He and his wife had become the perfect roommates. Donovan figured that was just what marriage was and after a while, he figured he didn't need romantic love in his life.  

What he said to Jack was true. Miranda was helping to heal his heart. When he and Heather had finally called it quits, Donovan had been relieved but what did he do now? It felt a bit ridiculous to remarry at his age even though his ex-wife was doing just that. So he'd come to Cardiff and run into the brick wall of Miranda Ryan. Jack was right. She was mysterious and tantalizing in a way that Donovan couldn't put his finger on. It had started out as just sex but as he'd gotten to know her, he couldn't deny his feelings. 

They'd surprised him but not in the way he thought. It surprised him that the sex had turned into something more not because he'd wanted to avoid it turning into something more but because he'd honestly thought himself incapable of allowing it to turn into something more. A lot of people think that women are the only ones with the fantasies about love affairs and romance, but men have them too and Ethan Donovan is one such man. And here he was, in the middle of his own fantastical love affair.

He pushed at a lock of hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. "Still drop dead gorgeous…" 

She gave him a strange look. It hadn't been a simple compliment. Even weary and ill, she heard the affection in his voice. The light bulb went on over Miranda's head. Donovan wasn't keeping her secrets out of obligation or honour. He was doing it out of love. Still worn from her disagreement with Henry, she really didn't want to have another difficult conversation. Jack's warning about Donovan's vulnerability was ringing in her head. 

"Ethan…" she warned. 

"I'm not fishing here, Miranda," he said, softly. "My Mom always used to say that some great stories are short stories and that being short didn't mean they weren't great. Look, I get that you don't feel the same way I do but that doesn't matter to me." 

She gave him another skeptical look. 

"I know you don't believe me but, really, it doesn't. In two weeks, you go your way and I go mine. Don't worry, I'll get over you." He tried to lighten the mood with a poor joke. "Might take years of therapy and psychotropic drugs…"

Miranda let out a weak laugh. 

"I'll be fine," he said, smiling. He leaned forward, kissing her forehead again. His face softened more as he stared into her eyes. He whispered, "I do love you." 

"Ethan…" Miranda started but he stopped her.

"I know you won't lie and say it back and, if you don't want me to, I won't say it again. I just wanted to say it once," he said, smoothing her hair. "You're amazing, Miranda, and you deserve to have someone tell you that every day of your life." 

A hard rap on the glass brought both their heads up. Fish was waving at them. 

"I've got it, Evie!" he shouted.


	26. Chapter 26

"So what's the problem now, Fish?" Jack asked. "I thought you had it." 

Nearly everyone was gathered around Fish's worktable staring at the kettlebell, trying to understand the random technical jargon that Fish had just spouted. 

"From what you were telling me, Jack, these nanopaths are going to be all over their entire bodies, even in free circulation," Martha said, waving her hand. 

"Yeah, so?" 

"So, you told me that this thing is used for pranks," Fish said, pointing at the kettlebell. "I tested it. It has a small range and a small area of effect." 

Martha picked it up by the handle. She pointed it at Jack, holding the device about a quarter meter away from his chin. "It won't cover the whole body. We can only use it on someone in stages. Fish?" 

Fish walked over to Jack and spread his hands out. One hand was at Jack's head while the other was down by his chest. "It'll only give us about this much coverage." 

"So we hit them more than once," Jack said with a shrug. He took the device from Martha. With his greater height, he walked over to Fish and held it above his head. "Or we do this." 

"The beam would only go down about this far," Fish said, his hand at his navel. "Either way, we can't get enough coverage to do the whole body in one shot." 

"Then do like Jack said, hit them more than once," Gwen said, feeling like she was stating the obvious. 

"The human heart beats at least once a second," Martha said, walking over to Fish. "We zap this part, the heart continues to beat and the circulating blood pumps more nanopaths into the area we've just zapped. They'll still be infected. If we leave even one behind, it'll replicate itself and we end up back where we started." 

"Can you not stop the heart as would be done for open-heart surgery and then restart it?" Henry asked. His arm was crossed over his chest and his other elbow was resting on his hand, his index finger hooked over his mouth. Everyone turned and stared at him as they had when he'd explain the EMP. Henry unhooked his finger and held up his hand in frustration. With exasperation, he said, "Honestly, just because I was born in the sixteenth century doesn't mean I think the world is flat. So, will you all stop being so surprised that I know something of modern science?" 

"We can do that but it's very risky," Martha replied. "Especially for two of the victims. Jake Oliver was born with a congenital heart defect. He's on a lot of medication to keep his heart rate steady and normal. Doctor Suresh Kowda also has a pacemaker. The EMP will fry that device." 

"Is there another device in the archive? Something that isn't, for lack of a better word, a toy?" Donovan asked. "Or could Fish throw something together now that he knows what one's supposed to look like?" 

"We don't have time," Martha said, shaking her head. "In the next day or so, they'll all be on artificial respiration." 

"What about boosting the range of this one?" Gwen asked. 

"Eventually, I might be able to duplicate this or even modify it," Fish said, shaking his head, "but it's like Martha said. We don't have time for me to duplicate it. Modifying it is even trickier and more risky to the whole situation. If I fuck the thing up trying to modify it, we are S.O.L. and J.W.F." 

"I don't understand," Henry said, confused. 

"S.O.L. and J.W.F… shit out of luck and jolly well fucked," Donovan supplied with a slight smile. He turned to Henry and said, "You know what an EMP is and the basics of open heart surgery but you've never heard of George Carlin?" 

Before Henry could open his mouth to defend his pop culture deficit, Jack caught Donovan's attention. "Ethan?" 

"Hmm?" he replied. 

"What would you do?" Jack asked. He was standing almost identically to Henry but instead of his finger being hooked over his mouth, his fingertips were gathered at his lips. 

"Me? I'm not in charge here, Jack," Donovan said, taken aback. 

"No. You're not in charge _here._ Sink or swim, Director Donovan." 

He swallowed convulsively. All eyes were on him. Everything he'd seen and done here was coming together, coalescing into a solid mass, like a planet forming around a star with its own gravity and orbital motion. Donovan decided it all cam down to four little words… _What Would Torchwood Do…_ He drew himself up. 

He cleared his throat and said, with conviction, "Doctor Jones is right. We don't have time to dick around trying to replicate this thing. Doctor Fischer's right too. We only got one device. He worked hard to get it up and running and we're going to keep it that way. We do like the Duke suggested - stop the heart and restart it. It's risky to Oliver and Kowda but if we do nothing, they'll all die. Two is better than seven." 

Jack held his hands out in front of him and clapped, several times, very slowly. No one joined him. He waved his hand at everyone. "This is your team, Director. Give out your orders." 

 _Is he fucking serious?_ Donovan thought to himself but everyone turned to stare at him. "Martha, what's the easiest way to stop Miranda's heart so you can restart it again?" 

"Why restart it? She'll just revive won't she?" Gwen asked. 

Donovan shook his head. The tough call was sometimes the right one and he knew what he was about to say would not be popular. "We should test the entire process on her before we use it on a civilian." 

Everyone except for Henry and Jack gave Donovan a look of daggers. 

"Martha?" Donovan repeated. 

"Electric shock. A big enough jolt from a standard defibrillation device will stop her heart and can, hopefully, restart it again," Martha said, coldly. 

"Set that up in the isolation cell, please," Donovan said, ignoring the tone. 

"I am not doing this without Miranda's permission. She needs to know the risks-" Martha began but Donovan interrupted her. 

"Objection noted. You can obtain Miranda's permission, Martha. In the highly unlikely event she refuses, we'll find another way," Donovan said, skeptical. He couldn't imagine Miranda refusing. "If she agrees, I'll see you and Henry down in Miranda's cell in twenty minutes."

Martha shifted. 

"I get the whole 'do no harm' thing, Martha. I wanted a doctor handling this but if you want to teach Jack-"

"No, I'll do it but only if Miranda agrees," Martha said. 

Donovan nodded and turned to Henry. "Jack tells me you people are faster than us." 

Henry cast Jack a look of death and then nodded at Donovan. 

"I don't need to know how or the specifics but I need the downtime on these people to be short as it can be. Who's faster? You or her?" Donovan asked, jerking his head towards the east stairs. 

"Mao-Lin by a considerable amount," Henry supplied. 

After casting Henry an apologetic look, Donovan turned to Fish, "Joe? I need you to teach Henry how to use that device and if this works, I'll actually want Miranda at the hospital. I want the two of you to do as many dry runs of this as you can. I want you to have this down cold." 

No one moved and Jack said, "Gwen, head down to University Hospital and see about closing up the isolation unit they've got the staff in. I don't want an audience if this doesn't work. In fact, it would be better if we could separate them from each other as well. Ianto? Let Henry and Fish use you of the dry runs. You heard him people, let's get to work." 

The team dispersed and Jack clapped Donovan on the shoulder. "Follow me." 

Donovan walked behind Jack towards his office, shutting the door behind them. 

"Have a seat," Jack said as he opened his personal safe. He took out a flash drive and plugged it into his laptop. He clicked a few times, hit a couple of keys and then lifted his head to look at Donovan. "How did you get put in charge of MiB, Ethan? Call from the President? He say something about God and country and duty?"

"Pretty much," Donovan said, shrugging. 

"This is how I became Torchwood's captain," Jack said, turning the laptop towards Donovan. He hit play. 

Donovan leaned in and watched the security footage. 

"-you're here. Always did have great timing. This place, it's yours. Torchwood Three. My gift to you, Jack, for a century of service as field operative. Give this place a purpose. Before it's too late. Please," the unknown man said. He was holding a gun in his lap and something else in his cupped hand. Donovan saw bodies all around. He watched Jack move from body to body, his eyes darting around trying to simultaneously take stock of the situation and control it. Donovan never thought Jack could look so lost… 

"Alex, listen. It's going to be okay…" Jack pleaded.

… or sound so desperate. 

"No. It's not. It's really not. I looked inside." Donovan had never heard someone speak with so much despair and hopelessness. 

At that moment, Donovan saw Alex close his fist around whatever was in his hand. "It showed me what's coming. They were mercy killings. It was the kindest thing I could do. So none of us see the storm. I'm sorry I can't do the same for you." 

 _Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck did he_ see _?!_ Donovan wondered. The volume on the old fashioned television raised and Donovan could hear fireworks and the sound of a countdown. He looked at the background of the image. _The millennium…_ he thought, noticing the decorations. 

"Twenty first century, Jack. Everything's going to change. And we're not ready," Alex said. 

There was so much terror and fear in his voice but that wasn't what raised the hair on the back of Donovan's neck. It was the completely and utter hopelessness. He watched, horrified as Alex raised the gun to his head and fired. 

"ALEX!" Jack screamed. 

Donovan shut his eyes against the spray of brain and blood that splashed itself onto the Hub floor and up across Jack's face. Jack hit the pause button and looked at Donovan.

"I would have preferred a phone call," he said, softly. Jack stood up and dug something else out of his personal safe. It was a bottle and two shot glasses. The bottle was intricately carved and looked to be practically empty. It was barely enough for one drink, let alone two. The liquid was completely clear. 

"Alex told me to give this place a purpose. He said we weren't ready but he didn't just mean Torchwood. He meant the world." Jack set the glasses down between the two of them and uncorked the bottle. "You see what we're up against here and since I took over twelve years ago, I've felt like I'm barely keeping my head above water. I keep fighting that uphill battle because I know we need to. We need to arm the human race against the future because Alex was right. The twenty first century is when everything changes." 

He poured the liquid into each glass, evenly dividing the tiny amount. He jerked his hand, emptying the last few drops. Jack lifted the bottle, staring at it from below into the bottom and frowned. It really was completely empty now. He put the bottle down and gave Donovan a small smile. "Now, you're here. The Director of America's Men in Black is training with my team. Today? I finally feel like I've made some headway. And you earned yourself a drink." 

Jack grasped the shot glass and put it down in front of Donovan. Donovan picked up the crystal shot glass and held it aloft. "Slainte." 

"Here's mud in your eye," Jack said. After saluting Donovan with the glass, he downed the liquor. 

Donovan coughed. What he'd drank was barely a sip but it was burning his throat. "What the fuck was that?" 

"Hypervodka… the last of my stash," Jack said, nodding at the bottle. "That fell through the rift in aught six, nineteen not twenty. I break it out on special occasions. It was a pretty good label actually." 

"If I ask you how you know all this shit, would you even fucking tell me, Jack?" Donovan asked, honestly. 

Jack laughed, turning the shot glass around in his hand. He nervously fidgeted with his other hand, pushing the empty bottle further to the side. "You wouldn't believe me." 

"You've got a fucking pterodactyl flying around out there and I watched you come back to life," Donovan said, rolling his eyes. "Try me." 

"I'm from the fifty first century. I… got stranded here," Jack said, leaning back in his chair. 

"Jesus fucking Christ! That's… that's… that's three thousand years from now!" Donovan looked around. How did Jack stand it? "Christ, we must seem like fucking cavemen to you!" 

Jack laughed at that. "Why would you say that? You're just people. You're quaint, I'll give you that, but you're still people." 

It explained so much. It was the final piece to the puzzle of Torchwood. Donovan couldn't believe it. What this man must know? What he must have seen? He thought for just a second, he saw a glint of it in Jack's eyes - the vastness of time and space and the enormity the human heart and soul was capable of. This man was so much bigger on the inside. Jack Harkness was inspirational and Donovan felt himself get swept up in that inspiration. In that moment, Ethan Donovan gave Jack his unwavering loyalty. He knew that should Jack ever ask, he would follow this man to his death. 

"If you could go home, would you?" he asked.

Jack stopped laughing and he said, seriously, "I left home a long time ago. I belong here." A nostalgic look came over Jack's face. "And I wouldn't change that for the world."  

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me who wins the World Series for the next ten years would you?" Donovan joked. 

Jack threw Donovan his best ten thousand watt smile. "Not a chance." 

The two men laughed together heartily.


	27. Chapter 27

Even though Jack had handed over temporary control of the operation to Donovan, it didn't stop him from observing on the other side of the isolation cell glass. Actually, the entire team was watching with him. Ianto had his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall behind his lover. Gwen was hugging her chest while twisting at the waist, working off some nervous energy. Fish had his forearm against the glass, above his head, staring at Henry who was inside the cell with the kettlebell in hand. Martha was standing with the defibrillator paddles. Donovan was inside the cell too but out of the way to the right. Miranda was laying on the cot, nude from the waist up. 

"Go ahead, Martha," she said, smiling weakly. 

"I wish you'd let me use an anaesthetic first," Martha insisted.

Miranda shook her head. "The fewer variables the better and I'll be fine." 

Donovan sternly ordered, "Proceed, Doctor Jones." 

Martha looked at Henry who nodded. She gave Donovan a bit of a dirty look. Steeling herself, she settled the paddles against the conductive pads and whispered, "I'm sorry." 

Then, she shouted, "Clear!" and pressed the buttons on the paddles. 

Miranda jerked and then went still. A quick glance of the monitor showed a flat line as the alarms began to blare. Henry stepped forward but before he could even get into position, there was a beep on the heart monitor and Miranda gasped. There was fear and pain on Miranda's face and it made Donovan's heart ache. He couldn't stop himself, he rushed forward and put his arms around her. She panted against his chest.  

"Breath, babe," he said, rubbing circles into her back. "It didn't work?" 

"Must not have," Martha said, gritting her teeth. 

"Do it again," Miranda said, wheezing. "Increase the charge to maximum." 

"Why don't we give you a few minutes," Donovan said, softly. 

Miranda shook her head. "I'm fine, Ethan." 

Donovan kissed her forehead and gently laid her back onto the cot. He stepped away so that Martha could position the paddles. She clenched her jaw and cried out again, "Clear!" 

Miranda's body convulsed with the electricity. Once again, the line was flat and Martha moved out of the way for Henry. They'd moved more quickly this time but, again, there was a beep on the heart monitor and Miranda gasped back to life. 

Again Donovan rushed forward, putting his arms around her. Miranda pushed on his chest, giving herself a bit of room to catch her breath. 

"She isn't healing from the electric shock," Henry said, shaking his head. "She's reviving too quickly." 

While it as normally an incredible asset, Miranda's immortality was now a disadvantage. Donovan saw Henry's sword up against the clear glass wall. He knew what he needed to do but did he have the stomach for it? _Time to grow a set_ … He locked eyes with Miranda and then flicked his gaze to the sword. She nodded at him, laying back down on the cot. Quickly, before anyone could stop him, he stood up and grabbed the sword. He raised it above her chest pointed at the ground. He plunged the blade straight down. Miranda let out a stifled cry, then a gurgling breath and died. 

Donovan felt a lump form in his throat and he swallowed around it. Martha screamed in surprise. She wasn't the only one. Fish and Gwen both shouted. Fish even banged his fist into the glass. Out of the corner of his eye, Donovan saw Ianto fumbling for his stopwatch. 

"Henry, use the device now," Donovan ordered. His voice not entirely steady. When he let go of the sword's hilt, his hands were shaking. 

Without missing a beat, Henry stepped forward. He held the device about a quarter meter above Miranda's throat. He hit the button. Nothing happened except an extremely anticlimactic beep. Donovan wasn't sure what he was expecting but it was more than a simple beep. Henry moved down Miranda's sternum, and activated the device again. He continued to make his way down her body. When he was done, he nodded at Donovan who stepped forward and grasped his sword at the hilt. He planted his foot on Miranda's shoulder and yanked upwards. The blade came free with a sickening tear, blood dripping from the metal onto the floor. 

Donovan turned to the glass. "Ianto, how long?" 

"Twenty minutes, depending. It could be as long as thirty," he said, his voice muffled by the glass. 

"No, how long did it take for Henry to complete the sweep?" he asked. He mentally filed away the information on Miranda's time to revive. 

"About thirty seconds between time of death and the end of the sweep." 

"Is that too long, Martha?" Donovan asked. 

Martha was still staring at the blood stained sword in Donovan's hands. 

"Martha?" he pressed. 

"The faster the better but it's not long enough for permanent brain damage," she said, swallowing. 

"Once Miranda's revived, we'll head to University Hospital."  

Donovan handed the blood stained sword to Henry. He sat down on the cot and pulled Miranda into his arms. He felt tears stinging his closed eyes as he clutched her limp body to him. _I'm sorry…_ He knew everyone was staring at him but he didn't care. He kissed her forehead and smoothed over her hair. He didn't realise it but he was rocking Miranda gently back and forth. Ianto had pushed the stopwatch face up up against the glass so every few minutes, Donovan looked up to see how much time had passed, grateful for the time piece. 

Every minute felt like ten. Twenty minutes felt like hours. Then, thirty minutes came and went and Donovan's heart sank but they all continued to wait. At precisely forty nine minutes and twenty seconds, Miranda gasped and convulsed. Donovan gripped her tightly. 

"I've got you," he said but she started to struggle against his arms. Louder, he said, "Miranda! I've got you!" 

"Ethan," she gasped, settling against him. 

The minute she caught her breath and not caring everyone was watching him, Donovan kissed her. Miranda broke the kiss first, pulling away and looking at the others.  

"How do you feel, babe?" he asked. 

Miranda blinked a few times. "Tired. More tired than I should be from a sword to the chest." 

He let out a small chuckle. "I don't want to know how you know that." 

"I'm fine, Ethan. I no longer feel ill." She stood up, a bit unsteady and Donovan held onto her. "We don't have time to wait to see if I redevelop symptoms. I don't think I would still revive feeling fine if the nanopaths  were still active." 

Martha looked wary. "We didn't use the defibrillator."

"That shouldn't matter. It was the beating heart we needed to overcome," Henry pointed out. 

"I think we've been successful," Miranda said, looking around. She picked up a t-shirt from a pile of clothes. 

"Jack?" Martha asked, looking at the other former companion. 

"Don't look at me. This is Ethan's show. Ethan?" Jack called out from the hallway. 

"How soon after infection do symptoms present?" Donovan asked, looking at Martha. 

"Forty eight hours," she supplied. 

Miranda was right. They didn't have time to wait. "We go forward. We perform the procedure on the infected staff at the hospital and quarantine them for seventy two hours. They've already been in isolation for a week, another three days isn't that much more," Donovan said. He saw approval in Jack's eyes. "If they redevelop symptoms, we've bought ourselves some time to find something else. Miranda? If you're up to it, I want you to take over for Henry at the hospital. You'll move faster than him and we need to be fast with these people. Gwen? Is everything arranged there? The patients are moved?"

"Yes. All the patients are in private, individual rooms," she said, loudly. 

"We have consent from the families?" Donovan asked. 

"Yes, Director," Ianto informed. "I gave them a cover story of an experimental treatment. They understand the risks, especially Kowda's and Oliver's families. They're all willing to try." 

"Martha, I want you to take every precaution with these people. Call the hospital. I want a replacement for Doctor Suresh Kowda's pacemaker standing by and the procedure to replace that device ready to go for him. I want the old device confiscated. I want a crash team standing by in case the defibrillator doesn't work so that the more experienced people can step in for resuscitation. I also want to do Jake Oliver, the man with the heart defect, first. Let's go."


	28. Chapter 28

Donovan had been there with the whole team, watching from off in the distance as the hospital staff had been released from isolation and reunited with their families. It was a bright, sunny day in Cardiff and the heat from the sun had warmed his face but not as much as the sight had warmed his heart. He'd had his arm around Miranda's shoulders, smiling broadly. He hadn't been with the Torchwood team long, but he'd been with them long enough to know that Torchwood received precious few days like this - good days where everybody lives. Even Kowda and Oliver had come through in spectacular fashion. Kowda's new pacemaker was functioning well and all of the staff were symptom free. No one had thanked them. No one had known. All they'd known was that a special team had swooped in with an experimental treatment that had been a success. But Donovan didn't care. He didn't want thanks. He didn't want praise. Seeing the families hugging and kissing and crying their tears of joy was enough for him. 

He and Miranda had celebrated properly during his remaining week with Torchwood, spending many late evenings and nights in each other's arms. It had been a week of normal little Torchwood things - Weevils and artefact retrievals. In between, when they rift allowed it, he and miranda had laughed and talked. It had been a wonderful affair full of lust and love; although the latter was quite one sided but Donovan had told Miranda the truth. He hadn't minded. 

It was Miranda, not Ianto, who'd driven Donovan back to Cardiff International Airport for his flight back to America. They were standing just inside the terminal with Donovan's bags at their feet. He had her hands in his. He was grateful not just to Torchwood but to her. Torchwood had educated his mind but Miranda Ryan had educated his heart. She may not have known it but being with her had returned a warmth to him that he hadn't even realised he'd lost. 

Now, it was time for their affair to end and for Donovan's new story to begin. He felt like he should be sad but he wasn't. He was going home and he was doing so with a hopeful soul _. And one good solid hope is worth a truckload of certainties…_ his mother had said to him once. He had to arm the human race for the future. The twenty first century is where everything changes. _Message received, Mr. Hopkins…_ He had a mission. He had a purpose. This door in Cardiff was closing and another was opening for him. He would file away his time with Torchwood and Miranda along side some of the most memorable and significant of his life. He stared into Miranda's honey coloured eyes. It was strange, but he didn't think he would miss her. Donovan gave her one last kiss. It was tender and slow. When he stepped back, he cupped her face. For a few minutes, silently, he stood there, looking down at her, rubbing at her cheek with his thumb. 

"I love you, Miranda," he said, gently.  

Every time he'd said those words to her, he saw an almost infinitesimal wince on her face. At first, he'd thought that wince was guilt over the fact that she didn't love in him return, but after a few days he'd figured out the real reason and it had broken his heart. Miranda Ryan felt she didn't deserve to be loved. He'd done his best to show her how much she'd done for him, how alive she'd made him feel but nothing had been able to penetrate this penitent shame that hung around her like a fog. He had no idea why it existed and he hadn't even tried asking but he knew that guilt like that in a woman like this wasn't from something insignificant nor was it an over reaction to something trivial. 

During his time here, she'd imparted words of personal and professional wisdom. Learning from someone who'd lived more than a few lifetimes was quite a unique opportunity. So, he'd taken all of her advice to heart. He'd taken time each day to examine his life, his priorities and his behaviour, and he vowed to change. She'd given him so much without even knowing it and now, he felt the need to say something to her in return. He didn't think she'd listen but he had to try. 

"Do me a favor, babe, and listen to me. I get that to you I'm just a kid. Fuck, everyone to you must be just a kid, but… just listen for a minute, okay? I see that look on your face every time I tell you how I feel. I know you don't think you deserve love or happiness." 

She turned her gaze down, staring at their joined hands. He put his hand on her chest and said, "I know that in here, you're nailing yourself to your own cross every minute of every day. It might be kinda cocky but I think I know you well enough now to assume that whatever you're punishing yourself for, it's something big - something you think is unforgivable. Whatever it is, you really got to let up on yourself a little."

He patted her trouser pocket, indicating the antique rosary beads the immortal woman always carried. "Matthew 7:1, 'Judge not, or you too will be judged.' It isn't just about our judgement of others. It counts for ourselves too. Only God judges us, Miranda. To be absolved, you need remorse and you already got that in spades." 

He cupped her face again but she didn't look up at him. He said, softly, "I get that's not what you want. I get that you want to go on punishing yourself but if what you did is really as bad as I think it is, then you believe that there's an eternity of punishment waiting for you on the other side. Don't you think that punishing yourself in this one is being melodramatic?" 

He hooked his index finger under her chin and stared her straight in the eyes and said, "Everyone deserves someone who'll make them look forward to tomorrow. When you find that person, don't let whatever this is stop you from loving them or letting them love you because it's not just you who you're punishing. You're punishing them too." 

He rubbed her jaw with his thumb while he let his words sink in a bit. She swallowed and Donovan swore she almost quirked a smile at him.

She let go of his hand and stepped back. "Godspeed, Ethan."  

He'd said his piece. 

"Goodbye, Miranda." Donovan turned and walked away. He was taking the first physical steps towards his new life and now it was time to take the metaphorical ones too. He took out his mobile phone and dialed. The call was answered on the third ring. 

"Hey, Becca, it's Dad… Yes, I got your message again… Well, what did your mother say?… I agree with her, but I'm not saying no to helping you out until you do find some work but I've got some conditions… Well, for starters, how about you have dinner with your old man and tell me all about your first month at school?… Great… No, I'm getting on the plane now. I'll be home tonight so how about this weekend… Yes, I'll see you then… I love you too, sweetheart. Bye." 

Donovan disconnected the call and moved through the security line. He had two more phone calls to make before he caught his flight home.


End file.
